


Hope

by Ma3landra



Category: Split (2016)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Cognitive Dissonance, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Drabble, F/F, F/M, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kidnapping, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Platonic Soulmates, Romantic Soulmates, Self-Harm, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2018-11-04 19:21:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 89
Words: 44,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10997340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ma3landra/pseuds/Ma3landra
Summary: Instead of Casey, there was Hope. (Starts pre-Split.)Temporarily on HIATUS. Will not be abandoned!





	1. Hopelessness

**Author's Note:**

> This is in no definitive way a true representation of DID. This is also a work of non-profited fiction so please hold it as such and know I make no financial gain from this. Only the original characters and the story plot itself belong to me. Everything else belongs to M. Night Shyamalan, Jason Blum, Marc Bienstock, Betty Buckley, and of course the one and only James McAvoy.  
>   
> Thank you for being patient with me. I’m sorry I made you wait but my muse got bitten by the Riddick bug and well, she and I both got distracted. Now that those particular stories are posted, finally, we have this! Now, I know it’s taken a month but this story has gone through several revisions. I actually started out with a VERY long first chapter. Actually, got up to chapter three and then my muse decided to do something different. So, I sat down and started again. I’ve actually cranked out ten chapters (each 500 words exactly) for this drabble fic so far and I want to believe that they’re actually better than my first rough draft.  
>   
> Also, not only is this a Soul Mate/Soul Mark fanfic (for this particular universe, it’ll be the person’s name instead of the first words they say to each other like my Riddick stories), it is a drabble-fic – my first ever because this is what my muse is giving me, so let me know how I do, please.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of child/sexual abuse and self harm.

A small figure sat curled up tightly on the floor of a small, messy bedroom. Her head rested against the side of her bed. Her shoulder pressed into the wood of her nightstand. Her backside had gone numb from sitting on the floor for so long. The lone lamp was shattered across the room, shards of pottery and glass littering the carpet. How long had it been there? A day? A week? Longer? She didn’t know any more. Didn’t care. The ratty curtains covered the dirty windows. Dull, gray eyes drifted listlessly around at her surroundings.  
  
The walls, with their chipped lead-based paint, were supposed to be white, marred only by the multitude of dark scuff marks of furniture. How many times had she had to dodge something being thrown at her in a fit of his rage? The worn rug was thin and destroyed in several places, whether from tearing or cigarette burns varied. How many times had she had to scrub up blood, often tearing up the fibers along with it all? Her doorless closet had a handful of hangers on the horizontal bar. Her furniture, all of it, was scraped, dented, or broken, or some combination.  
  
This room was like her life – broken, unchangeable. So, what was the point?  
  
The girl picked up the knife and admired the dull colored metal before resting on the sharp edge. _‘What are you doing, Hope?’_ one of the voices in her head whispered.  
  
A second voice cursed her, _‘Are you fucking stupid?! If you die, we all die!’_  
  
_‘Please don’t, lass,’_ a third added.  
  
Then the voice of reason, the most hated voice at all, murmured, placating but superior, _‘Don’t do this, Hope. There’s so much to live for.’_  
  
The girl, Hope, let out a bitter laugh. What did _she_ know?! She wasn’t the one who suffered. Every. _Fuckin. **Day!**_ “What’s there to live for?” Hope croaked. “To be tortured because _his_ life isn’t fair? To be tied down like a god damned animal? To…” Her throat closed and tears prickled her eyes at the phantom sound of a belt buckle and the teeth of a zipper being undone ringing in her ears. Of the feeling of bruising hands jerking her pants down and holding her in place. Of the burn and tearing of being stretched without preparation. “I won’t let him hurt me anymore.” With that, she lowered the blade to her thin, pale wrist above the Soul Mark – because she wouldn’t ruin it despite what she was doing – and dug the edge in, ripping the skin open.  
  
“NO!”  
  
Hope shuddered, hissing as her skull connected with the edge of the nightstand. Copper coated her tongue as she bit down. She didn’t want to go back into the dark! She didn’t want to lose more time. She didn’t want to do this anymore! But four sets of hands jerked her from consciousness and she was no longer in control.  
  
Abigail had taken over, leaving Hope feeling _hopeless_ once more. 


	2. Dispatch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of domestic violence.

Officer Jennifer Clarke, though her coworkers usually liked to guffaw at her and start singing the old Pokémon ‘Officer Jenny’ song, especially when she was in a bad mood just to see her get flustered some more, considered herself a decent cop. She knew she was still a bit ‘green about the ears’ or whatever the other, older, seasoned officers like to say. Usually a bit sexist, derogatory. It was fine. She gave as good as she got, having grown up the daughter of a detective herself. And having five older brothers who either joined the police force themselves or a branch of the military. So, when she got that call at 7:51PM that Saturday night mid-February… when she thought back on it, she thought she handled the situation rather well.  
  
“9-1-1, what is your emergency?” There was quiet sobbing on the other end. “Hello? Hello? Anyone there?”  
  
Finally, a young girl’s voice replied thickly, “It won’t stop bleeding…”  
  
Dread settled in Clarke’s gut. She sucked in a breath and asked, voice smooth despite her feelings, “What won’t stop bleeding, ma’am?”  
  
More sniffling and shaky breaths. “My wrist.” Maybe not a _Ma’am_ more a _Miss_ but that wasn’t important. “I cut it. It won’t… stop…” she hiccupped, “bleeding…”  
  
“Ma’am, ma’am, I need you to listen to me. Can you do that for me?” Jennifer was glad her voice was still coming out steadier than she felt. “I need your address so I can send emergency services to your location.” The girl rattled off the answer. “Good, now do you have something to try and stop the bleeding?” There was no response other than a breath sucked in sharply, fear evident with that one noise. “What? What is it?”  
  
There was suddenly shouting on the other end of the phone line and a painfilled cry and more angry shouting. “Please! Stop!” the girl sobbed, crying out once again. “Please, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” The second voice was definitely male. Clarke stayed on the line, muting her end to not alert whoever that she was sending a car to the location of the ‘domestic dispute’ going on in progress. Luckily, there was a car only minutes from the girl’s location. Hopefully they got to her in time. “It was an accident! Someone, help—” Whatever plea the girl might have begged of her attacker was cut off.  
  
The line was dead.  
  
Officer Jennifer Clarke swallowed and sat back. A warm hand rested on her shoulder and she looked up to see Gideon DeMarko standing over her. His stereotypical cop mustache hid his mouth but the man rarely smiled as it were. At least, not here. Now was no different. He looked weary.  
  
“Does it ever get any easier?”  
  
He sighed and took a sip of his coffee in his blue ceramic mug with a picture of his ten-year-old in his soccer uniform on it. He had a large grin on his face and a tooth missing. It could’ve been _him_ calling. “Nope.” 


	3. Bad Girl…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of domestic violence.

All Joseph wanted to do when he got home was to eat dinner, drink a beer or two – okay, maybe whatever remained of the case he picked up the other night, so he’d have to go out and buy some more since the bitch couldn’t be trusted to pick up any kind he liked. And Henry had gotten busted for selling underage. Instead, when he walked through the door, the girl was scrambling away from the couch, looking up at him so fucking guiltily.  
  
_‘The fuck had she done now?!’_  
  
Stomping over after slamming the door closed behind himself, Joseph grabbed the juncture of her neck and shoulder as tight as he could, fingers digging in. She cried out in pain, shouting loudly, “Please! Stop!” He noticed there was red was saturated into the dishtowel – _Caroline’s_ dishtowel… How dare she ruin it! “Please, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”  
  
The saturated cloth was at the girl’s wrist. Was she trying to…? Caroline would _never_ take herself from him. No… his wife was dead. Because of this life-sucking leech he hadn’t even wanted. But she was the last remaining link he had to Caroline. And _she_ thought she could take that away from him? “The fuck you think you’re doing?!” he shouted. He didn’t remember swinging his arm. He didn’t feel it until pain blossomed in his fist, the girl’s head snapping to the side.  
  
She stumbled back into the couch, still shouting loudly, “It was an accident!” Was that the house phone poorly hidden there? Had she attempted to called someone? “Someone, help—” He grabbed the cordless and cut her off. That was enough of that.  
  
Now, she had to be a good girl and receive her punishment. Only, she had run to her room. He kicked the door open easily and then delivered another to her knee to make sure she couldn’t try to run away any more like a bad little girl. There was a ‘ _snap_ ’ as she screamed, crumpling. She was making too much noise. She should know better. Such a bad girl. Bad little girls got sent to The Closet after their punishment and he didn’t want to do that. Of course, she was _making_ him do it, so…  
  
Joseph reached for his belt and Hope’s face went pale as she stared up at him. “No, please, no!” she sobbed. “I’ll be good! I promise I’ll be good! Please!” He folded the long strip of leather in half, raising it.  
  
_SNAP!_  
  
Hope shuddered and immediately stuffed her fist into her mouth to prevent herself from screaming anymore as he punished her thoroughly. The leather easily drew welts, it was the buckle that split her skin, adding to the scars already decorating her back and legs. Blood seeped from where her teeth had broken through. It dotted the carpet.  
  
Ah well. She’d clean it up.  
  
Joseph dropped his weapon of choice. Another ‘ _snap_ ’ as he kicked her in the ribs and then in the jaw.  
  
“Open up! Police!” 


	4. Disorientation

Although he knew his role, Alistair _hated_ being the one to take these kinds of ‘ _punishments_ ’ doled out almost daily by Hope’s father. However, he was the one meant to protect Hope, all of the girls – _his girls_ – really. And he was good at it. Had to be. He would keep in charge of the body during this until they were able to find some medication to circumvent the agony they were usually left in. Unless Mercedes needed to tag in. It was happening more frequently. Abigail, Mercedes, and Emma, the other three personalities that had been born of the trauma Hope had endured for as long as she could remember all sat demurely within their seats within Hope’s fractured mind, sent him pitying looks. Hope, herself, had unanimously been forced to sleep until further notice, to make sure they all could live.  
  
Alistair took stock.  
  
There was excruciating pain in the left leg. Worse than normal. He might have to pop it back into place later. There was fire dancing across the plains of his back and thighs. And some stickiness. He hoped to god none of the Marks had been rendered unreadable. Their Soulmates might not ever forgive them. Even the ringing in his head, the aching, throbbing, disorientation from having his head bounce off the hard floor was familiar. Someone speaking kindly to him directly after… That was entirely new.  
  
“Can you hear me? Can you tell me your name?”  
  
Gray-blue eyes blinked up at an unknown face of a man pointing a bright light into his pupils. He flinched, the brightness causing pain to sear itself into his brain. He might have cringed some more but his leg was unresponsive and heavy and pain flared through his torso causing him to cry out. Oh, god, maybe Joseph had made good on his promise and this time he really was going to die.  
  
_‘No… we can’t…’_ a young voice – Emma – echoed through Hope’s head.  
  
There was an angry snort. _‘This is all your fucking fault, Hope. If you weren’t already asleep, I’d choke you out, bitch!’_ Mercedes.  
  
Abigail was silent.  
  
“Miss, what’s your name?”  
  
Alistair regained enough coherence to realize he strapped to a gurney and being loaded into an ambulance. He rasped through the mask covering his nose and mouth, “Hope… Hope Adler…” The EMT sighed in relief, noting the Scottish accent.  
  
He smiled pearly whites down at him. “Well, Miss Adler, I need you to stay awake. Can you do that for me?” The male alter moaned, the pain in his head making his eyes close. “No, please don’t do that, sweetheart. Open your eyes.” Alistair sucked in a sharp breath and forced heavy lids open. He was fully in the truck and they were moving now; the handsome man still above him. “Good, sweetheart,” he praised. “We’re almost there…” Alistair blinked and he was being wheeled down a hallway. The jerky motion had him twisting his head, vomiting, wondering when the disorientation would end. 


	5. Fletcher, Dr. Fletcher

The handful of personalities inhabiting Hope Adler’s body, sans Hope herself, took turns coming in and out of awareness, though usually it was only for minutes at a time as the drugs wore off and were then pushed through the body’s system once again. When any of them _were_ awake, there was always at least one or two people standing around her bed, talking, looking at charts, staring at her like she was some sort of freak. But, they all knew or figured out the reason for that.  
  
_‘They’ve seen uir Sool Marks, lassies,’_ Alistair murmured from his seat. _‘Most, if nae all o’em.’_ The three-conscious female alters cringed.  
  
Statistically speaking, approximately 18% of the world’s population remained Un-Marked. This meant that the 69% of the populace that did have a single Soul Mark usually met, married, and lived happily ever after with their Soulmates. The 12% that had two Marks were the envy of the Un-Marked, but it happened, occurring more frequently. The 1% that had three however… bad things sometimes had happened to them, usually by Un-Marked.  
  
Hope Adler had even more than that.  
  
Abigail took control of the body this time, gaining a solid form of clarity finally. A doctor, the coat and the clipboard gave him away, came into their hospital room, an older woman with short white hair at his side. “—go see if she’s awake? Ah, she appears to be.” The doctor was in his early forties, dark hair cut short but stylishly, very tanned skinned, a very white smile. It all came together perfectly. Too perfectly. She was instantly put off ease staring at him. Joseph had been handsome. But she knew to see the ugliness beneath the good-looking façade. Whether or not she was being paranoid, she would rather be safe.  
  
The woman beside the doctor was not much better. She was of average height and of a heavier weight than maybe healthy for her age. Her hair was pure white and cut short, though whether it could be considered attractive or not was only Abigail’s guess. Beneath a red jacket that came down to her mid-thighs, the button-up was white with black vertical stripes. The dark blue, perhaps navy, slacks were pressed neatly. Everything was loose, except the low-heeled pumps. She turned to the doctor, craning her neck to meet his gaze, saying, “If you don’t mind, Dr. Mikaelson, I’d like to speak with Ms. Adler alone.”  
  
“Of course, Karen,” he replied easily, placing the chart at the end of the hospital bed. “And how many times do I have to ask you to call me Elijah?”  
  
The older woman smiled and closed the door behind him before turning back to the woman watching her carefully. She slowly came over to the young woman’s bedside and sat herself in the chair offered. “Good afternoon, Ms. Adler. My name is Doctor Karen Fletcher.” Abigail stared at her, unblinking and unspeaking. “I’d like to speak with you about your twenty-three Soul Marks.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it was requested (in so many words) at the end of August for subtitles for Alistair's thick brogue. So, if you can understand him, yea! If not, here's the translation of what I meant him to say.
> 
> _‘They’ve seen uir Sool Marks, lassies. Most, if nae all o’em.’_ \- They're seen our Soul Marks, girls. Most, if not all of them.


	6. Slipup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to thank **blueyes_on_fire** , **LizRenKnight** , **Gallons_of_the_Stuff** , **Vtian13** , **NinjaEnchantress** , **WOND3RLUST** , **KalicoKat** , **V0V** , **thegirlwhodreamswhileawake** , **Quiethoshi99** , **dudesorriso** , and **StarReader2013** for the kudos and the lovely comments you posted. They help boost my muse into creativity so she thanks you too!

Dr. Karen Fletcher let her eyes drift over the figure struggling to sit up on the hospital bed in the flimsy paper gown, looking… so broken… so small… so suspicious. Like she would spring up and fight or flee from anyone trying to hurt her ever again. That was still undecided. She couldn’t have been any older than maybe seventeen, though her gray eyes looked much, much older. The riotous chin-length strawberry blonde curls needed a good combing, a good scrubbing too by the look of natural grease coating the locks. The bruising surrounding her left eye and over her nose from where it been broken was no longer so dark in color and had been properly set. The bandages were thickly wrapped about her left wrist, though a Mark could be seen on the back of the hand and two more on that particular arm. A cast had been placed around the girl’s right leg from ankle to mid-thigh. Apparently, the girl’s father had shattered her shin and popped the girl’s knee out of place. From the reports, though, scars littered themselves the girl – cuts and burns alike – mostly over her shoulders, back, stomach, hips, and upper thighs.  
  
However, here she sat.  
  
A survivor.  
  
The only reason Dr. Fletcher had been called, however, was because one of the hospital’s psychoanalysts who had been called in to help determine the girl’s mental state when she woke was a friend and knew well of Karen’s work with Dissociative Identify Disorder patients. Having been given the report of the number of Marks inked in so many places had the psychiatrist in mind, and a phone call later, the woman was now here, staring at one Hope Adler.  
  
“I’d like to speak with you about your twenty-three Soul Marks.”  
  
The teenager retorted instantly, “Well, I don’t.”  
  
Karen smiled sympathetically. “I understand.” She would try a new tactic. “How about I simply ask how you’re doing?”  
  
The blonde brows rose and anger crossed her features only for her to wince as the bruise pulled across her healing nose. “How I’m feeling? How d’you think I feel?” she demanded caustically. “I’m in a hospital bed, broken and bleeding, my scars and Marks on display so that the world can figure out what I freak I am on top of being my father’s punching bag and whore.” The two women stared at each other. The young woman’s lower lip began to tremble, gray eyes tearing up. “I’m terrified, Dr. Fletcher. I don’t want to be sent back again. Joseph might kill us— _me_ —this time…”  
  
That slipup caught her attention.  
  
Dr. Fletcher asked, kindly, but eagerly. “Am I… in fact… speaking to Hope?” Horror crossed the girl’s face. “It’s quite alright if you’re not. You see, I in fact work with several people who have Dissociative Identity Disorder. That means… it’s quite alright if there are more personalities within you than just one. I can help you all.”  
  
After a _loonnngggg_ pause, “My name is Abigail.” 


	7. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, after that wonderful review by **Gallons_of_the_Stuff** , I’ve decided to up my game and give you two a week (from now on), especially since my muse has been working hard. Now, I will admit to not really liking Dr. Fletcher but I can understand where she’s coming from so I won’t be bashing her outright but my opinions on her will be implied – through the girls (and Alistair).

Abigail had already slipped up once. She supposed it was the drugs in her system that loosened her tongue. However, since she was a terrible liar (Mercedes was their silver-tongue though _she_ was still grounded from her last fuck up) Abigail decided to tell the truth. Now, she waited for the woman to call her crazy. To label her a freak. She desperately wanted to trust this woman – someone, anyone really – who sat smiling kindly, earnestly, beside their body. Only, the last person who Abigail had taken the liberty to reach out to – because Hope had been too distraught and petrified to do so herself – had tried to earn their trust only to have taken them right back to Joseph, despite the fresh bruises and the various scaring. She did not want that to happen again but… she wouldn’t know without taking a chance. She prayed to a god she didn’t believe in that this time would be different.  
  
_‘Here we come, white padded cell,’_ Mercedes snarked.  
  
Emma whined, _‘Shut up, Mercy! You’re gonna get us in trouble again!’_  
  
_‘Both of you, quiet please,’_ Abigail requested. Alistair remained silent.  
  
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Abigail,” the older woman grinned a little brighter, her voice soft and welcoming. She turned and handed the girl a tissue box. The blonde gratefully wiped her eyes, wincing as the movement bothered her ribs.  
  
_‘Ha! See? You’re stupid, Mercy!’_  
  
_‘Emma,’_ Abigail chided the child personality. _‘We don’t use that word.’_  
  
The female alter whispered aloud, “May I ask you something, Dr. Fletcher? …Do you know… have you heard… what’s going to happen to us?”  
  
The psychiatrist’s shoulders slumped a bit. “Usually, in this kind of situation, you will try to be placed into a home with a foster parent while having regularly court appointed medical and mental appointments to monitor your healing after so much trauma. Luckily, I’m going to attempt to use whatever sway I can to get you into the care of a woman I know and trust very much. She, herself, has fostered children who have DID before so she knows how to work with you and all the other alters residing within you. Does that sound acceptable?”  
  
“Do I really even get a choice… as a minor?”  
  
Dr. Fletcher sighed. “I suppose not but I’d like to try to make you as comfortable as possible, if I can.”  
  
Abigail appreciated this though didn’t know how sincere this was. She seemed utterly genuine and he wanted to trust her. God, did she ever… But after so many failed attempts at seeking out help… In order for a bond of trust to work, one must show it to gain it in return. She didn’t remember where she heard that from but they were good words to live by. “Thank you,” she whispered. She swallowed, adding, “What did you want to know about my Marks?” Karen lit up and pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. Almost immediately, Abigail regretted it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, before someone points out that this is **not** how the foster system really works, I’m admitting here and now that I don’t know the foster system – except what I’ve seen on TV. Just know I’m doing things a certain way to get my characters to a certain point and I hope you can either overlook or point out (without flaming) any and all flaws you might find.


	8. Misunderstanding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, y’all are gonna hate me a bit…  
>   
> But firstly, shout outs to: **Gallons_of_the_Stuff** , **Quiethoshi99** , **LadyRedStar** , **WOND3RLUST** , **LizRenKnight** , and **zerousy** for your wonderful reviews. Thank you to **zouge_tori** , **Rose_Dymke** , **IAmLarissaATypicalGeek** , **Kurinaa** , **greekgodlover** , **BlackRoseMagick** , **LostItALittle** , **kawirema** , and all my unnamed guests for your kudos. Thank you all for helping **HOPE** get over 400 hits so far. I hope you continue to read and enjoy it. Thank you!!!

“For my first question about your Soul Marks, I would first like to know is if you were born with all twenty-three or if they appeared over the years,” Dr. Fletcher began. She already had a feeling that she knew who this young woman’s Soul Marked Mate _might_ be, but she didn’t want to jump to conclusions, tell them false information, be proven wrong, and then have to deal with the fallout from having gotten both their hopes up only to be dashed. But if she was right… The woman forced herself not to smile.  
  
Abigail considered this for a minute, wracking her memory.  
  
Alistair spoke up, though quietly, from his seat, _‘We started oot wi’ fifteen afair th’ rest started tae appear.’_  
  
The female alter currently in charge thanked him and translated his sentence out to the psychiatrist in her own Roxborough, Pennsylvania accent. The woman wrote this down, the corner of her mouth tugging up. “That’s good. Alright,” the doctor muttered to herself. “Are any of them all the same handwriting or are they all different?”  
  
“All different,” the girl reported.  
  
More notes. “Have you met any of your Soulmates?” A shake of the head. “None of them have faded, have they?”  
  
Marks only faded when the corresponding person to the name dotting a person’s skin died. “No, all of mine are dark and black, though…” Here the girl swallowed, eyes downcast. “Not all of them are… quite as readable as they should be.”  
  
Karen reached out and patted the girl’s hand in understanding.  
  
There was a knock on the door and both women looked up just as the door opened. What appeared to be a man in woman’s clothing poked his closely shaved head inside, a tentative smile crossing his thin Cupid’s bow lips. His ice blue eyes lit up behind his black cat’s eye glasses. “Doctor Fletcher!” a distinctly feminine voice cried in joyous greeting.  
  
“Ms. Reynolds,” the psychiatrist greeted. “Volunteering again?”  
  
The woman in a man’s body grinned, shrugging, coming to stand beside the older woman. “Of course,” she replied. “Every second and fourth Sundays of the month.” Turning to Abigail, she added, “I’m glad you’re awake now, sweetie. I’m Mary.” A large hand stretched out in greeting. The blonde froze completely. Reynolds. Mary. _Mary Reynolds_. “Are you alright?” The girl’s mouth had dropped and her gray eyes were wide and staring. “Should I go get the doctor?”  
  
“No! Wait!” Abigail gasped, reaching out immediately to try and grab the other woman only to cry out as searing pain wracked hotly through her and forced her to lie back. Opening eyes, she didn’t remember closing she looked for Mary and frowned when she didn’t reappear while the nurse came to refill the bag of morphine. “Where is she? Where’s Mary? No, I don’t…” It kicked in quickly and she already began to slow down. “No, please… I need… to tell… her…” Her heart began to slow as the drugs took her under into temporary oblivion. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alistair's Translation (for those of you not quite sure what he meant):
> 
> _‘We started oot wi’ fifteen afair th’ rest started tae appear.’_ \- We started out with fifteen before the rest started to appear.


	9. A Closer Look

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t hate me! Don’t hate me! Don’t hate me! ***runs, ducks for cover, and hides***

“I hope I didn’t cause her anymore hurt,” Mary murmured quietly, watching the patient drift off under the influence of the morphine running through her system. “Why did she even react like that, I wonder?”  
  
Karen, standing beside her, smiled sadly and patted the female alter on the shoulder gently. “You just surprised her and unfortunately, her situation… is only now just starting to work towards getting better.” The nurse came out, closing the door behind herself, telling them the girl would sleep for a few hours then walked off dismissively. “Would it be possible if you came to visit her again? I think she’d like that very much.”  
  
Mary’s thick brows furrowed, unsure, still recalling the utterly shocked look on the blonde’s face. “If you’re sure…” she muttered. “I’ll ask Barry later tonight.”  
  
The psychiatrist nodded, adding slyly, “Next time you see her as well, you might want to also take a better look at her.” Then she walked off, leaving the volunteer to stare off at her, confused. Determined to figure it out, Mary crept back into the blonde’s room and closed the door behind herself. Taking a breath, she turned to the sleeping patient and took her in from afar. Dirty blonde curls, pale skin marred by bruises, slight figure. Her left wrist was bandaged, her right leg casted up. Stepping closer, she noticed five familiar names staining the girl’s skin.  
  
**_Polly._**  
**_Rakel._**  
**_Ansel._**  
**_Patricia._**  
**_Bernice._**  
  
Mary sucked in a sharp breath. That had to be a coincidence. Right? Gulping and taking a look at the young woman’s sleeping face, she felt so guilty as she reached forward and hesitated, debating whether to pull at the neck of the girl’s gown, or to uncover her one leg. She went for the left leg, just in case someone walked in and right there under her knee was ‘ ** _Jelin_** ‘. On her ankle ‘ ** _Jade_** ‘. Peeking out from behind the wrappings on her wrist was a ‘ ** _y_** ‘. For ‘ ** _Barry_** ‘? It was becoming more of a possibility with every name she uncovered. But this did explain why she looked so shocked. And that brought up another question.  
  
Where could _her_ name be, if this girl was indeed one of their Soul Marked?  
  
Shaking her head, Mary let out a breath, closed her eyes and centered herself. She needed to finish her rounds and conference with the other alters. But first… Stepping over to the chart, she glanced down and found out her name was indeed **_Adler, Hope_**. Mary’s heart soared before plunging into a bath of ice. She had forced her Soulmate into a drug induced sleep because she had been trying to be overly helpful. She facepalmed, groaning, hoping she would forgive her once they were actually able to sit down and talk.  
  
However, if she wasn’t still here when Mary came back… The female alter put the chart back and located the notepad in the bedside table’s drawer. Scribbling the girl, a note, Mary smiled and returned to her rounds. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***peeks out from behind cover*** Please don’t hate me?


	10. The Good News

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, (in order of appearance) shout outs go to: **VibrantVenus** , **zerousy** , and **Gallons_of_the_Stuff** for your awesome reviews.  
>   
>  To **Bucky_Bear_Protection** , **Ongaku_Ato_Kakikomi** , **CandiedBlueberry** , **Ironhide855** , **FalseRabbit13** , **FineMournings** , **Demonic_girl111** and all my unnamed guests for your kudos.

Mary Reynolds was an excited, nervous mess as she made her way into the entrance of her and her family’s home in the old grounds keepers’ quarters beneath the zoo where they worked. Her first stop was the kitchen to check the old voice mailbox for the house phone. There was none. She then glanced at her cell phone, disappointed that there was… nope, no bars remaining of the signal and no new voice messages there either. Sighing, she made her way into the living room and slumped herself onto the couch, kicking off her sneakers and sighing in relief before sighing sadly and checking her cellphone one more time. Still nothing, and the reception signal bars remained invisible. It was then Mary reached for the little pad left on the coffee table for any notes they needed to pass to each other. She quickly scrawled out ‘ ** _Invest in a signal booster ASAP_** ‘ and then closed her eyes and turned her gaze inward.  
  
_Twenty-three chairs sitting all in a ring…_  
  
There was a beginning of a nursery rhyme somewhere in there.  
  
Nineteen of them were filled and all turned towards her as she got ready to give up the light. Mary stood from her chair and turned to Barry, a grin forming on her ovular face. “I’ve got news,” she announced first to him, then turning to look at everyone. “I’ve got good news.” Everyone quieted down. “I met… one of them.”  
  
“Wait? What?” from her left.  
  
From her right, “Them who?”  
  
Behind her, “Them as in our Soul Marked, idjit! Right?!”  
  
“Everybody just take a minute!” Barry shouted, gesturing with hands for the rest of them to quiet down and turned back to Mary. “Now, start from the beginning.”  
  
Mary, still standing by the center chair, shifted her weight, and ran a hand through her short, wavy hair. “So, I was volunteering today, like I always do every second and fourth Sunday of the month,” she began. Someone shouted to get to the point and Barry sent them a look, promising a turn-in-the-light-skip if the attitude persisted. “And I heard Dr. Fletcher was there today so I went to go say hello.” A slight smile broke upon her lips. “She was talking to a girl, a pretty young woman. When I introduced myself to her, she just stared at me. I was afraid she might have been in pain so I got a nurse. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize I had shocked her. It was Dr. Fletcher who told me to take a closer look at her the next time I got to see her. So, despite her being asleep… I,” here she flushed abashedly, “I went back in and checked her Soul Marks. She had… _definitely_ … seven of our names that I could see. It _can’t_ be a coincidence.”  
  
Norma, ever the excitable twelve-year-old, squealed in happiness. “This is awesome!” She fist-pumped. Goddard, beside her, rolled his eyes. Jade giggled at her antics.  
  
“So, when do we meet her?” 


	11. What About the Horde?

Mary cringed. “About that…”  
  
Barry – who was standing closest to her – let his face fall. “What happened?”  
  
“So, because she was still unconscious… I left her a note with our phone numbers—both of the house and our cell, just to make sure she gets them, you know? But.. I don’t know if she got them… not for sure…” She shrank in on herself, feeling ashamed at having put their Soul Marked under when the younger woman was _now_ clearly just trying to get over the shock of meeting Mary who was one of twenty-three.  
  
Barry sighed and quieted everyone down when the rest decided to voice their opinions once more. Suddenly someone – it sounded like Samuel with his thick Brooklyn accent – asked, “What about the Horde?”  
  
A quick glance confirmed all three of their seats were indeed empty. Again. “Fuck ‘em,” Jade decided for the group. “They want to spend their days at that train station of theirs, let them.” She flicked her hand in the direction of where the station that had been there since before even Dennis had been born to help their poor, delicate Kevin. “Besides, we all know Hedwig would probably annoy her, Dennis would most likely perv all over her, and Patricia would _definitely_ scare her off with those stories of that Beast of theirs.”  
  
Barry was torn. Yes, he didn’t want to venture to the train yard because it was a dangerous place, where the three alters seemed intent on spending their time when not here or in their bedroom in the large house they created within Kevin’s mind. Still, this was their Soul Marked Mate. Even they deserved to know about the meeting of the first one. Possibly all of them if Dr. Fletcher was meeting with her. Or maybe it was because she had all their names tattooed onto her skin. Either way, they would figure it out, eventually. Still, he really did not want to go there – to the train station. Even approaching made his skin crawl, his palms and forehead sweat, and his stomach clench in a most nauseating way.  
  
Yeah… no.  
  
“I’ll tell them,” he announced, motioning for Mary to return to her seat, if she wished. “Whenever they wander back, which they will, send them my way and I’ll break the news to them.”  
  
“Why should we even tell the Horde?” Felicia demanded. “If they remain banned from the light… then they’re never gonna meet them anyway. So what’s the point in telling them? It’ll be like dangling food in front of a starving person. Honestly, I think it’d be just cruel to tell them.”  
  
This was true but still.  
  
Mr. Pritchard spoke up from his seat now, adjusting his glasses. “It would be crueler still to not tell them and for them to find out we were keeping the fact that we had met one of our Mates and _not_ told them. But, the final decision is up to all of us. I suggest a vote.” 


	12. Self Examination

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout outs for the last two chapters go to: **VibrantVenus** , **zerousy** , and **CandiedBlueberry** for your awesome reviews.  
>  To **XCrimsonAvianX** , **Sam_Cipher_Wolf** , and all my unnamed guests for your kudos.  
> 
> 
> * * *
> 
> **Slight mention of past abuse.**   
> 

When Abigail woke next, it was about nine in the morning if the clock was correct, and she _seriously_ had to pee. Debating on whether or not to call a nurse, the decision was taken from her when a man in his late twenties in bright purple scrubs stepped into the room. “Good morning,” the male grinned down at her, his light-colored eyes beaming. “How’re you feeling today, honey?”  
  
“Like I’ve been sleeping for a century,” the blonde replied honestly. “And… I really have to use the bathroom.” Here, she flushed abashedly. The male nurse waved her off and was very gentle with her as he helped her up from bed and kept her steady since her legs decided to choose that moment to be shaky at best. He helped her settle on the toilet and told her to call him when she was done and ready to get back into bed. “How long have I been sleeping?” she asked before he closed the door behind himself. “I feel like I shouldn’t be _this_ unsteady.”  
  
The nurse grimaced. “Before yesterday, you were under for five days,” he replied. “There was a bit more internal damage but Doctor Lewis got you all patched up.” He closed the door.  
  
A bit more internal damage… Resolving to find out, she glanced at the door where a mirror conveniently hung and lifted her gown, grimacing at the blackened bruises coating her belly. Running her fingers as gently as she could over her torso, wincing anyway, she found stitches just over her belly button, seven of them. Then she looked over the Soul Marks not covered by bruising or bandages and casting.  
  
Abigail’s fingers ran over her right shoulder, taking in the healed burn where the **_‘o’_** should have been in **_‘Norma’_**. At least **_‘Kevin Wendel Crumb’_** located over her heart was still intact, even after all this time. Reaching down to her right thigh, she grimaced, running over the slightly warped **_‘Dennis’_**. The Mark had come back despite her father attempting to burn it off with the flat of a heated knife when she had been twelve. **_‘Hedwig’_** on her left shoulder was undamaged, save for some bruising because of her fall. **_‘Ian’_** , **_‘Jelin’_** and **_‘Jade’_** were also fine, on the front of her left leg. On the back, **_‘Mary Reynolds’_** was marred by a thick welt turned scar so now it read **_‘Ma R olds’_** since **_‘Mary’_** was above and slightly more to the left than her last name. **_‘Felicia’_** on her left calf had a thin scar running through her name but it was still readable. The cast blocked off her sight of **_‘Heinrich’_** and **_‘Kat’_** but a look in the mirror confirmed that at least the **_‘Sam’_** of **_‘Samuel’_** had survived high up on the back of her right thigh. **_‘B.T.’_** had also come back after Joseph had attempted to remove the Mark, though was a little more warped. **_‘Mr. Pritchard’_** was covered in bandages.  
  
_‘Please don’t be ruined’_ , she thought. 


	13. Grace, Faith, Hope

A knock startled Abigail from attempting to remove the bandage taped to the small of her back. “You alright in there, honey?” The nurse. Ah, she had forgotten him.  
  
“Yeah,” she croaked, wiping herself and forcing her shaky legs to hold her up. Clearing her throat, she added, washing her hands quickly, “I’m fine. I’m walking a little better now.” She opened the door and wobbled out to him. He immediately brought his hands up and guided her back into a freshly changed bed. “Thank you,” she murmured, sighing tiredly as the blanket was settled once more over her. “How long before I regain my strength?”  
  
The nurse considered this. “Depends on how you heal,” he replied. “Although, from what I’ve seen with you, you heal quickly so maybe only a couple weeks – max.”  
  
That sounded good.  
  
The door to her hospital room opened and a woman in her late thirties, early forties strode in, wearing a smart light brown pantsuit over a frilly light blue top. Her red-brown hair was wound tightly into a pretty chignon. “Good morning, Ms. Adler,” she greeted the teenager. “My name is Faith Kimball and I’m your social worker. I’m working with Doctor Fletcher to get you placed with Grace Mē and work out when you’ll have to testify against your father in court.” Abigail’s heart skipped a beat and her jaw dropped slightly. “Luckily for you that you are still a minor and we were able to keep your name from being officially published in the papers and on the evening news. However, as we can’t control what people post on any social networks, well, it’s unfortunately going to eventually get out about the number of Marks you carry. However, if need be, the minute you hit the age of majority you can, in fact, legally change your name and get set up someplace else.”  
  
“So… my name is out of the papers until I have to testify against my father?” the blonde asked, trying to sum it up.  
  
Faith nodded. “Yes, in a nutshell.” Turning towards the door, she smiled and waved someone inside. In walked a woman around her late forties, early fifties. She was of average height with close clipped red-brown hair streaked with silver at her temples, though it was still feminine in form. Almost like Dr. Fletcher’s had been. Since it was still the end of February, the woman was favoring a dark red turtleneck under a heavy pea coat with thick blue jeans and low-heeled boots. The older women hugged, sharing a familiar smile between them in greeting.  
  
Looking at the two women standing side by side, Abigail noticed – at Mercedes’ observation – a lot of similarities between the two and questioned it quietly, hesitantly. The women shared a secretive smirk at this. Faith introduced, “This is Grace Mē, your appointed foster mother… and also my older sister.”  
  
A surprised bark of laughter broke from the teen’s throat.  
  
Grace, Faith, and Hope…  
  
What were the odds of that? 


	14. Relationship Foundation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout outs for the last two chapters go to: **LadyRedStar** , **VibrantVenus** , **zerousy** , and **Melody Jane** for your awesome reviews.
> 
> And thanks go to all my unnamed guests for your kudos, as well.

Grace, Hope, and Faith sat and spoke about what was to be expected in the upcoming weeks and over the next few months as well as innocuous things when the conversation started getting to be too much for the teenage girl, though she tried not to let herself get too stressed about what would have to be done.  
  
In the three hours the women spent together, Abigail found out that Grace’s husband was the Asian in the family, though Grace herself was in fact American-born though her parents had both been from East Germany and moved to the states when they themselves had been children in the early thirties. She was the oldest of four, Faith being the youngest, and having two brothers between them. While Faith and one of her brothers had been gifted with children, the other brother was gay and very happy _not_ being a father and Grace had been in an accident when she was a teenager that prevented her from ever having children naturally. Thus, after long talks with her husband, Jon, they had decided together to foster children, though there had been many an argument whether to start with a baby or for older children.  
  
Then the two of them had met Alex.  
  
The twelve-year-old had been their first and only foster son, who it was later discovered that he had Dissociative Identity Disorder. Through him, they also met his alters Matt and Jarod, and of course Doctor Fletcher who still treated him. It had taken a good deal of work but the family had helped the boys, supported them, and worked with them until the three different personalities learned to balance each other out and to share the body evenly. They had loved their _sons_ – Grace was sure to emphasize the multiple – still loved them to this day though Alex, Matt, and Jarod were now twenty-six and living on their own. They still called in from time to time and came to visit them on major holidays. They were even dating a girl, had been for about a year now, and things were looking serious.  
  
Abigail told the women, haltingly with tears and broken sobs, about her own life and why she, Alistair, Emma, and Mercedes had been born from the trauma Joseph had put them all through, though she had kept the details vague. It was bad enough she was baring her soul to these two strangers but as she realized, she would need them, at least until her eighteenth birthday in less than a month. Then she could take off and do her own thing if she needed to.  
  
“Have you met her?”  
  
Abigail looked up, confused as to what her new foster mother was asking. “Have you met Patricia?”  
  
The Soul Mark on the back of her left hand prickled and she clasped her hand to her chest, her right hand covering the name protectively. “No,” she whispered. “Not yet.” Then a smirk crossed her lips. “But I will soon.” 


	15. Check Out

It was finally time for Hope Adler to be released from the hospital and into Grace and Jon Mē’s care. Luckily, her wonderful new aunt had brought her brand new and freshly laundered clothing for her to change into after her final sponge bath. All of them were looking forward to taking a real shower that night and not the half-assed bullshit they had been getting over the past week.  
  
Taking the bulging Wal-Mart bag from Faith, exceedingly careful to avoid skin contact, and hobbling into the bathroom to make herself a little more human before going down to the lobby to meet up with her new foster parents, Abigail discovered everything was super soft material. Opening the underwear package, she slid on the hipsters and the sports bra with some difficulty as her healing wounds made her muscles very stiff and cause pain. Still, when she settled the sweat pants up over her legs and namely around the bulky cast, Abigail glanced in the full-length mirror and felt her eyes sting. ‘ _ **Mr. Pritchard**_ ’ wasn’t ruined completely but if you had not seen the name printed on her flesh before, it was only semi-readable now, new thin scars cutting through the bold script. She wondered if he would forgive her, even though it wasn’t truly her fault that the Mark was no longer in pristine condition.  
  
Still, her heart squeezed painfully.  
  
Taking the slightly too big long-sleeved shirt, she managed not to cause any aches or pains to flare before unearthing the new deodorant from the Wal-Mart bag. Abigail made sure to layer it thoroughly not just under her arms but on her bruised chest and belly as well just to make sure she didn’t smell unwashed, despite the inadequate sponge bath. Next, she took a bottle of vanilla and lavender perfume and sprayed herself over with that, just for extra precaution. She nearly groaned in ecstasy as she then brushed her teeth until they were super smooth, her gums nearly raw.  
  
Faith knocked on the bathroom door and opened it to check on her new foster niece.  
  
“Hey sweetie,” she greeted the blonde teen. She held up a yellow note. “I found this on your bedside table though I don’t know if it was meant for you or not.”  
  
Abigail spat out the minty lather and rinsed her mouth with water before reaching for the paper. Her gray eyes widened and a grin spread on her face. “She _did_ leave me a note!” she breathed happily, taking in the loopy handwriting.  
  
**_‘Hey honey, I am so, so sorry. I hope you’ll forgive me for my part in grabbing the doctors. I thought you were in pain and I can’t stand to see people hurting. Please, when you’re feeling up to it you can call me or any of US really at either our home number or on our cell phone. But you can always ask for me if it isn’t me who answers. With love and remorse, Mary Reynolds’_**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, next weekend I am attending what is known as RTX (Rooster Teeth Expo) down in Austin, TX. If you don't know what it is, that's totally fine -- it's a nerd convention. With that being said, you'll actually be getting your update on **Thursday** next week instead of Friday since I'll be _completely_ distracted and I don't want to disappoint any of you.
> 
> Much love and have a safe and happy 4th of July!


	16. Mary, Oh Mary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you guys so much! I hope you realize that. Your reviews and your kudos just make my absolute day. We have reached over 1100 views! You guys are awesome!!! I could not have done this without you!
> 
> So, shout outs to all you wonderful people: **WordPorn** , **Melody Jane** , **zerousy** , **VibrantVenus** , **LadyRedStar** , and **Gallons_of_the_Stuff** who left me wonderful reviews and to **WordPorn** , **Baloo18** , **tsuna27** , **BohemianRhapsody86** , **BlackestPearls** , **VWolfsbane** , **Mental_Patient** , and all my unnamed guests who left me kudos. You all make me love to continue writing! Thank you so much!

Stowing Mary’s note in the pouch pocket of her new pullover hoodie, Abigail hobbled after her foster aunt down to the lobby, the wide grin on her face starting to hurt, and yet she didn’t care. Mary had left her a note! Mary wanted to get back into contact! Mary wanted to apologize and see her again!  
  
**Best. _Day. Ever!_**  
  
Only Grace was waiting for Faith and Abigail. “Jon had to take care of some things and I also didn’t want to overwhelm you, Abigail,” her new foster mother explained gently. The blond teen felt her heart beat painfully in her chest at the consideration. She had an understanding that living with them was going to be a culture shock as it was, anyway. “Also, Doctor Fletcher will not be able to meet with you tomorrow like she wanted to. She’s come down with a case of the flu so she had to cancel all of her appointments.”  
  
Abigail thanked the woman for the information and went with them from the hospital to the parking garage, specifically a cranberry red SUV. Faith took shotgun, leaving the underage girl in back, which was still fine by her, despite having to climb into the vehicle; that was… rather painful. There was a small white box with a red ribbon and bow wrapped about it. Abigail looked up questioningly to her foster mother.  
  
“It’s a new cellphone,” the oldest redhead told her. “You’re a young woman and you’ll need a way to get into contact with us if you stay late at school or if you go out with your friends.” A flash of Casey Cook ‘s face flew through Abigail’s mind and she almost snorted. As much as she liked the girl, they never hung out outside of school because of Joseph, and Casey’s uncle. “Also…”  
  
Here, Faith interrupted and grinned as she announced, “Also we thought that we would take you to Bed Bath and Beyond and let you pick out your sheets and bedding since Alex took his when he moved out.” Grace shot her younger sister a frown at being talked over. “Sorry.”  
  
“That would be wonderful,” Abigail replied absently, unlocking her phone and looking through the contacts. Grace, Jon, Faith, and Doctor Fletcher were already preprogrammed in, as well as her school’s main office of all things. Taking out the note from her hoodie pocket, the blonde quickly typed in both of Mary’s phone numbers, saving them instantly and hoping she would be able to get a picture of her soon to put as her contact photo. Now that the information was saved, though, she hesitated her thumb over the telephone icon. At the last second, she hit the Text button instead.  
  
Still, it would be better than nothing.  
  
**_‘Mary, it’s Abigail. Just got out of the hospital. Running errands with my foster mother. Text back when you can, please? ~A’_**  
  
Breathing out a sigh, she hit send and watched as the message went from ‘ **Sending** ’ to ‘ **Delivered** ’. 


	17. This Changes Everything

Barry was on break at work when his phone vibrated and let off a ‘Cling’ Sound that took him a second to recognize. He groaned. That was the last time he allowed Bernice to watch **DBZA**. Obviously, she had gone onto Zedge and downloaded the ‘ _Krillin Owned Count_ ’ noise. She just shrugged, grinned, and told him she was not sorry when he turned inward and found her kicking her feet back and forth in her chair. Still, he pulled out his phone to see what notification had gone off.  
  
1 New Text Message  
  
The phone number was unknown but being curious, Barry opened the text and felt his blue eyes widen as his heart skipped a beat. A smile split his face in half as he read the words before him.  
  
**_‘Mary, it’s Abigail. Just got out of the hospital. Running errands with my foster mother. Text back when you can, please? ~A’_**  
  
Abigail.  
  
_Their_ Abigail.  
  
Barry turned inwards once more and shouted, “She texted back!” Everyone actually in the circle, though it had been reduced to twelve now since Mary and a few others were inside the house Kevin had built for them all inside his mind – and the Horde had still not returned – turned to look at him, their own eyes widening and then shouting. What had she said? Was she okay? Did she want to meet up with them? “Alright, alright, everyone settle down.” Movement caught his eye and he saw Dennis approaching. The tall alter paused, realizing his approach had been noticed. “Oh good, you’re back.”  
  
Dennis went stock-still as all eyes turned towards him. He was tall, the tallest of all the alters at about 6’ 7 and ½” with broad shoulders and bulging muscles. His pressed button-up, dark shimmering grey today, was tight across his built chest and closed all the way up to his throat. His slacks, flat black, clung to his strong thighs. His black loafers were recently shined and looked almost brand new save for the creases where his toes bent the loafers. Pulling his large hands from his pants pockets, he used one to push his dark framed glasses up his nose before rubbing his closely shaved head. In his heavy Boston accent, the protector of the alters, asked quietly, trying to discern why everyone was looking at him with such varying emotions, “Has something happened?”  
  
The appointed forerunner of the twenty-three personalities nodded, his grin still wide, though diminished at having seen the return of one of The Horde. “Yes, but it’s good,” he assured the older man. “We – well, Mary – met one of our Soul Marked.”  
  
Dennis, who had resumed walking towards his chair froze once again and looked sharply up at Barry, his dark blue eyes boring into the artist’s gaze, looking for any kind of falsity. Having known the man for years, he could detect none and felt his heart squeeze within his chest almost painfully.  
  
He would have to tell Patricia.  
  
This changed everything. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dennis knows! Meaning so will the rest of the Horde soon!
> 
> And yes, I went there... I am a nerd and I'm sorry- _totally **not** sorry_ -for loving DBZA!


	18. This Changes Nothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I am _so, so_ sorry for not updating last week. I'm thinking my computer got damaged sometime on the way back from my trip down to Austin, Texas and because of that, it ended up crashing on me last Thursday. Luckily, I didn't lose everything and had an older backup of **Hope** on my work computer -- just not everything with all the edits I had been tweeking it with. So, lo and behold, I have started putting everything up onto my Google Documents so this can't happen again. So, thank you for being patient with me.
> 
> Now, shout outs to all you beautiful people to whom I owe my 15 seconds of fame and infamy: **WordPorn** , **Vibrant Venus** , **LizRenKnight** , **zerousy** , **Gallons_of_the_Stuff** , **CandiedBlueberry** , and **WOND3RLUST** \-- thank you, thank you, thank you all so fucking much for your wonderful reviews.
> 
> To all of my recent _kudo-ers_ : **WordPorn** , **Baloo18** , **tsuna27** , **BohemianRhapsody86** , **BlackestPearls** , **VWolfsbane** , **Mental_Patient** , **Fox_Fang12** , **jesslb_reader93** , **rmismine** , **Random015** , **CutieD** and all my unnamed guests, thank you so much for helping me breach the 100 mark! Woo hoo!

While Barry had returned to the outside world to start texting their Mate, Dennis sought out one of the more open alters who would actually speak with him despite his… _shortcomings_. Because of this, all the female alters actively avoided him like the Black Plague, especially the younger ones. Though he would never follow through, this made him want to scream… possibly even punch something.  
  
It was _not_ his fault that he was this way!  
  
Yes, Dennis found what could be considered perverse pleasure in watching young women ( _at the very youngest sixteen years! He_ wasn’t _a pedophile_ ) dance naked, but did none of them understand that he had to deal not only with his own hormones and cravings but Kevin’s as well?! The first time their host had felt desire for Amy McDonald in the eighth grade, Kevin had been so ashamed and so terrified of his body’s reactions that he had shoved them all onto Dennis who had already had his own helping like any normal person. But Dennis was the strong one, so Kevin surmised that the alter could handle it.  
  
Apparently not.  
  
Thus, now, Dennis was banned from the light.  
  
B.T., who had the ability to read any situation and figure out quickly what was going on and what was needed, looked up at the approaching man with a humorless smile on his dark face. “Want to know what you missed hiding out at the train station, huh?” Dennis nodded and hid his large hands in his pants pockets once more. The younger alter nodded and began relaying everything he had learned. When he was done relaying the story, he asked quietly, “Gonna go tell the other two, I guess?” Dennis nodded once more. B.T. sighed. “You know this changes nothing, right?” he asked flatly. “Barry’s still not going to let the three of you into the light because of the things you’ve done.”  
  
Dennis clenched his jaw. “I know,” he replied. However, if what Patricia said was true and Hedwig _could_ take the light whenever the boy wished, then there would be nothing any of the others could really do to stop him from having his time in the light.  
  
Dennis quietly thanked B.T. and immediately took off, glowering as Rakel and Kat visibly flinched as he passed them. His fists clenched, knuckles turning white but he continued forward, returning once more to the train station. Once he was far enough away, he picked up the pace, heading for the forest that separated the main area where the rest of the alters lived and spent their time from the station. Bernice and Norma had once compared it to the movie **Coraline** because the sky was permanently black with only the house, the ring of chairs in the yard, the forest and train station having definition.  
  
In moments, the tall alter broke through the sparse trees. He found Patricia and Hedwig sitting on one open storage car. The Beast sat above them on a neighboring train. 


	19. The Horde

“You bring news,” came the booming, rough voice from The Beast that reminded the protector of two large rocks smashing together. He was taller, much taller than Dennis was, at nearly eight feet tall with very broad shoulders. The protector could only guess that he easily weighed 300 pounds or more of solid muscle. The dark golden brown mane of hair atop The Beast’s head and growing down the top ¼ of his spine was similar to a lion’s, thick and rough. His arms were like tree trunks, his fingers long and tipped with sharp claws. His chiseled chest was bare save for the thick rhinoceros-like skin the color of wet sand. The coal black trousers The Beast wore were heavy, durable material and ended just over his large paw-like feet, also clawed. But it was his face that Dennis avoided looking at with his golden eyes and partial wolf-like snout and dagger-like teeth that could rend human flesh like tissue paper. He was a frightening thing. A creature of nightmares.  
  
A true Beast.  
  
Dennis nodded, guarded blue eyes flicking upwards to glance fleetingly over the humanoid before redirecting to Patricia who leaned forward eagerly for whatever tidbit of news that was juicy enough to prompt the protector’s almost immediate return. She nodded, giving him permission to speak, one bony hand clasping the ends of her shawl beneath where her broach held them together above her sternum.  
  
Dennis passed a large hand over his shaved head, ducking his face downwards as he scraped together the right words to convey everything. Finally, he sighed. “Mary Reynolds met one of our Soul Marked,” he announced in his thick Boston accent. “From what B.T told me, the girl – one of our girls – was in the hospital and Mary found her while she was volunteering. She left her a note but it has been days since then. When I returned to pick up on any new information of the goings on with The System, one of the girls had only just texted us.”  
  
Patricia’s thin, angular face pulled taut as she beamed widely at the news while Hedwig sucked in a sharp breath. The woman demanded, speaking over the child who had opened his mouth to ask his own questions, “One of our Soul Marked Mates? You’re very sure on this?”  
  
The protector nodded. “Barry was the one who initially told me,” he returned. The artist was many things – impulsive, messy, and _very_ high maintenance with his clothing – but a liar was not one of them and Patricia knew this. “I got the details from B.T.”  
  
“So does this mean we’re _finally_ gonna get to meet her? Fall in love and marry her and etcetera?” the high pitched lisp added to the conversation. Of all the alters, Hedwig was the probably the only one who had unfailingly held out hope that one day they would get to meet Hope Adler. Or Abigail. Or Emma. Or Alistair. Or Mercedes. 


	20. Pinky Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A third chapter? That's right! But wait... there's more!

“So does this mean we’re finally gonna get to meet her? Fall in love and marry her and etcetera?”  
  
Both adults turned towards the nearly vibrating child as he bounced excitedly on his seat, hands tucked beneath his backside because Miss Patricia hated when he flailed while speaking. He then stuck the tip of his tongue between the small gap between his two front teeth to prevent himself from asking anything more. The boy knew Miss Patricia also hated when he asked too many questions without waiting for answers though he now had _gajillions_ of them!  
  
Patricia frowned then as if she were sucking on a lemon. “You forget Hedwig, we have five Mates. We won’t be able to marry anyone unless she was like us - all in one body,” she chided him, her tone sharper than necessary.  
  
A rumbling growl from above had her shrinking and glancing her light blue eyes upwards to The Beast who had leaned forward and had pulled back his upper lip, revealing the teeth the length of her index finger and sharper than a scalpel.  
  
With his role as Alpha, though his pack was reduced to three at the moment until he became more substantial in being and could draw the other twenty beneath his domain, The Beast knew he would have to corral his underlings even from each other at times, such as now. Were she an animal or more like him, perhaps Patricia would have more mothering instincts. As it was, though, the moments where she was soft and kind to the youngest Cub were few and far between and usually had him snarling at her to back down from her attitude.  
  
Golden eyes surveyed her submission and finally flicked to the male alter who’s head was already bowed. Good, at least he knew his place. He sat back, retreating to an observation role once more.  
  
Dennis rubbed a hand over his scalp before speaking quietly to the child. “Patricia is correct, Hedwig. Unless our Mates share one body, _maybe two_ , we will be unable to marry them.”  
  
The child frowned, his tongue slipping free of the gap between his teeth. “But… I thought… _can’t_ multiple Soulmates marry and etcetera?” he insisted, lisping slightly.  
  
Patricia remained silent to avoid The Beast’s ire any further, leaving Dennis to explain with a heavy sigh. “A Soulmate Group of three has been given the rights to legally marry across the whole world. There are laws in certain states where a Group of four can marry but anything greater than that is technically not legal. Think, Hedwig. Kevin would be considered one. We have five Soulmates and if they’re in separate bodies, that makes…”  
  
The child’s shoulders slumped. “Six,” he lisped.  
  
Carefully kneeling before the child, Dennis caught his eyes. “It doesn’t mean we can’t _be with them_ ,” he assured Hedwig.  
  
The boy held out his pinky. “Promise?”  
  
The man smiled, ignoring the woman who scoffed, curling his own finger around the much smaller digit. “Promise.” 


	21. The Truth Always Comes Out

Arriving at Bed Bath & Beyond, Abigail limped after Grace and Faith, pulling out her phone once they had crossed the threshold of the store to answer the newest text from either Barry or Mary, who had all too happily joined the conversation. **_‘You don’t need to send him pictures of whatever sheets you pick out. He’s such a fashionista that he’ll probably rag all over them ~Mary’_**  
  
A smirk split her lips and then her phone chimed before she could reply. **_‘No, I will not. Babe, don’t believe anything she’s saying. I am NOT that picky. ~Barry’_**  
  
“Okay, we’re here, Abigail,” Grace turned towards her new daughter and saw her with her bent towards the screen, “so time to put it away for a bit.”  
  
The girl nodded, though she didn’t want to. She understood that her new foster mother didn’t want to be ignored when she was being so generous. Abigail explained she was just going to let them know she had to go, then typed out her message. **_‘Grace wants me to put my phone away since we’re at Bed Bath & Beyond. I’ll talk to you guys when we get done here. ~A’ _**  
  
Barry made a pouty face emoji but wrote that he understood. Mary told her to have fun and she would _definitely_ talk to her later, privately followed by a winky face. Smiling, the blonde stowed the phone into the pocket of her hoodie and turned her attention to her foster family who had gotten a basket and were waiting for her off to the side. She hobbled up to them. “Sorry,” she murmured, keeping herself at a bit of a distance from them instinctively, arms folded protectively over her small chest.  
  
Faith’s eyes saddened but she smiled anyway. “Of course,” she replied. “Who were you talking to? You seemed very excited about the note I found.” This piqued Grace’s interest, especially as the girl’s cheeks colored.  
  
“Ah,” she she muttered, rubbing the back of her neck in a nervous gesture.  
  
_‘Tell them, just not everything. The best lie is a half-truth,’_ Mercedes instructed her.  
  
Taking the advice given by the younger alter, the blonde admitted vaguely, “It was from one of my Soul Marked…”  
  
Grace and Faith exchanged glances. The older sister spoke up as they eyed customers passing them. “So, none of the doctors would admit how many Marks you honestly had and I’ve seen at least five so far.”  
  
“Six,” Faith corrected her sister. “Plus, she’s got at least three on her left leg that I’ve seen.”  
  
Grace looked between her sibling and her foster child, surprise and shock coloring her features. “How many Marks _do_ you have?”  
  
“Quite a few of them…” she continued with the vague answers. Grace and Faith both leveled her with looks that told her in no uncertain terms that they wanted the exact amount and she sighed, admitting quietly after making sure no one was close by. “I have twenty-three Soul Marks. Another seems to be forming.” 


	22. The Drive to BB&B, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm sorry for the weird update email despite chapter 21 _not_ getting updated. I was trying to finagle my chapters around so they flowed better without having to outright cancel **The Truth Always Comes Out** and lose all my wonderful reviews from **LizRenKnight** , **WordPorn** , **VibrantVenus** , **zerousy** (who left  four reviews!). However, I found that AO3 wouldn't let me do that so if you're confused, please note that the next two chapters is actually going back to during the ride to BB&B and covering what The Group (Hope) and The System (Kevin) said to each other.
> 
> So, to my kudo-ers: **MariaRamirez_1** , **ZonateBiscuit** , and all my unnamed guests, thank you so much!

Abigail stared at the phone in her hand, waiting to see a reply while keeping an ear open of the conversation going on in the seats before her. “We should go to Wal-Mart,” Faith was suggesting. “There are several different styles there and everything’s cheap.”  
  
Grace pursed her lips. “There’s not _that_ much style differences there,” she argued. “What do you think, Abigail? What would you and the others like to do?”  
  
The blonde tore her gray eyes up from the phone and met her foster mother’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “The cast is bulky so I don’t know if we’ll be able to wear jeans. And we _don’t_ wear skirts so sweatpants might be the way to go, until we can get this removed.” She knocked her knuckles gently on her plaster covered knee and glanced down, a bright grin appearing on her face.  
  
_**‘Hey babe, it’s actually Barry responding to you though Mary is here too. She’s glad you got her message. ~Barry’**_  
  
Hope quickly typed out her own response. _**‘Well, it’s nice to officially meet you, Barry ;) Hello to Mary as well! ~A’**_  
  
As soon as she hit send, another message popped up. _**‘Honey I am sooo sorry for what happened @ the hospital. Please forgive me? ~Mary Reynolds’**_  
  
_**‘It’s fine, Mary. You didn’t know and I was just super shocked that I was actually getting to meet you. I’m much better now ~A’**_ Abigail tuned back into the conversation in front.  
  
“That should be easiest for the time being,” Grace was agreeing finally. “What kinds of different styles do you guys like, Abigail?”  
  
The blonde settled her phone on her thigh, waiting for the vibration to let her know she had a response. “Myself in particular, I prefer bright pastel colors - pinks, blues, purples, greens. I embrace my girly side very happily though… still no skirts. Not yet at least. Emma is your typical six-year-old. If it’s cute, she likes it. She’s currently into Paw Patrol, My Little Pony, and surprisingly enough Adventure Time. She _loves_ Princess Bubblegum and Marceline.”  
  
**_‘That’s wonderful to hear. Still I’m so sorry ~Mary’_**  
  
**_‘Getting off that depressing topic, what errands are you running? ~Barry’_**  
  
“Frozen or Inside Out?”  
  
“Actually, she really loves Brave and Mulan best, though I am reminded Wreck-It Ralph is a close third.”  
  
_**‘We’re getting new bedsheets and are deciding what clothes to get since my leg will be in a cast for a while ~A’**_  
  
Barry’s response was immediate. _**‘Oh, pictures, definitely! ~Barry’**_  
  
_**‘Don’t mind him, he’s a fashion queen ~Mary’**_  
  
“Sorry, was texting Mary,” Abigail commented. “Mercedes style is varying and she can be hard to shop for. Alistair has a flair for being well dressed so if we had the means he’d put himself into slacks, a button up, and a waistcoat as his normal everyday wear. Hope is kinda emo - black, baggy, and mainly from Hot Topic, if we could afford it, though they have been adding more color into their wardrobe selections.” 


	23. The Drive to BB&B, Part 2

**_‘I am not a fashion queen! I just have a keen eye for all things fashionable ~Barry’_**  
  
**_‘I like looking good! That’s not a crime! ~Barry’_**  
  
“Who is Mary again?” Grace asked curiously.  
  
Faith cut in before Hope could respond, “She left a note for... the girls, which I found under a newspaper… though it was kinda weird how it was written out.” The older redhead seemed to accept it and Abigail saw no need to expand on that. She knew they had seen a few of her Marks but if they didn’t know she could be considered a freak for having twenty-three of them then they wouldn’t look at her as such.  
  
**_‘Hey if you are, then I am totally making you be my shopping buddy once I return to work and can afford clothes I actually like ;D ~A’_**  
  
**_‘Sounds like a plan babe! I’m game! ~Barry’_**  
  
**_‘Well just work around our days off and your schedule ~ Mary’_**  
  
**_‘I mean ‘we will just work around’ ~Mary’_** Hope smirked at the correction.  
  
**_‘I understood what you meant. I’m almost out of school (3.5 months yea!) so I’ll just need to find a job sooner rather than later. ~A’_**  
  
**_‘Oh? What degree are you trying to get? ~Mary’_**  
  
**_‘Err… nothing yet. I’m actually finishing high school… ~A’_**  
  
“Abigail?”  
  
The blonde looked up from her phone. “I’m sorry. What?” she asked.  
  
“I was telling you that we’re getting close and asking if you have any idea what kind of bedding you’d like to pick up? You can also get curtains too.”  
  
The teenager hesitated, storing her phone in the pocket of her hoodie. “I’m not sure,” she admitted. “I just used whatever Joseph _let_ me have.”  
  
**_‘We’re getting close to BB &B ~A’ _**  
  
_‘Which was never much,’_ Mercedes sniffed. _‘Luckily Mrs. Donovan from beneath us gave us that old quilt of her grandson’s.’_  
  
Emma nodded. _‘We get to keep it right?’_ Abigail and Alistair both shrugged.  
  
The blonde alter added, _‘If Faith didn’t have it saved for us, maybe we can ask to retrieve it from Joseph’s apartment. If it’s not too late.’_  
  
_‘Joseph isn’t going to be there, right?’_ the child asked quietly.  
  
Alistair opened his arms and allowed the six-year-old to crawl into his lap, tucking her head beneath his chin. _‘He's gain, Emma. He willnae be comin' back. And if he tries… I’ll take care of the problem.’_ The child snuggled into his embrace, trusting him complacently. The blonde female alter smiled. When she came out of her mind, the grey eyes darkened in disappointment as there was still not reply from either. Tearing her gaze away, she glanced out the window and watched as they pulled into the huge parking lot of Marketplace at Garden State Park, passing Wegmans and Best Buy on their right.  
  
A sudden, strange itch on her belly had her glancing down and drawing up her shirt. There, above her bellybutton was a new smudge. A forming Mark perhaps?  
  
“Alright, we’re here.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alistair's Translation:
> 
> _‘He's gain, Emma. He willnae be comin' back. And if he tries… I’ll take care of the problem.’_ \- He's gone, Emma. He will not be coming back. And if he tries… I’ll take care of the problem.


	24. Facades & Realities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These next two chapters are going to be a little heavy but it's groundwork, I promise.
> 
> Shout outs this time go to: **zerousy** for two reviews, **XElectricalStarz** , and **WordPorn**! Thank you so much for your reviews and for being patient with me.
> 
> To my kudo-ers, thank you to **XElectricalStarz** , **Haria_Ana** , **anlasthar** , **ginacrash** , and both my unnamed guests!

“Twenty-three?” both women gasped quietly, eyes wide, jaws dropped.  
  
Abigail cringed at the now very much unwanted attention, thin arms tightening across her small chest in their folded state, body instinctively curling in and backwards. Faith immediately retreated a step away from the girl who looked suddenly ready to bolt and touched her sister to follow her lead and do the same. The blonde relaxed after a long moment, if only minutely, gray gaze jumping between the two adults warily. “I didn’t _ask_ for so many,” she ground out through gritted teeth.  
  
“Of course you didn’t, sweetheart,” Grace replied just as quietly, seemingly recovering from her shock. “I’m sorry for my reaction. It’s just… the boys didn’t have any Soul Marks and neither does Stacey - the girl they’re dating so the amount of yours caught me - us - off guard.”  
  
The blonde looked away, hands shifting from free-hanging fists to clutching desperately onto her biceps, as if to hold herself together from falling into a million pieces. Maybe she was holding herself together because her foster mother and her foster aunt were looking at her in _that way_ \- the way that said they _couldn’t_ believe she was so different from them. That, because of who she was, _what_ she was, they couldn’t understand her. That she was set up to meet so many people that may or may not compliment her (because while someone could be your Mate(s), it didn’t equal smooth sailing in the relationship(s)).  
  
They were looking at her like she was a freak of nature.  
  
Abigail suddenly wished she was any place but here - even Joseph’s apartment despite the horror, the hatred, and the sadness that permeated the tiny two bedroom apartment. It was still familiar, and in its own way it was safe. Still, she - _they_ \- were here and there was no truly getting out of this situation.  
  
_‘It’s only a few months,’_ Mercedes whispered, uncharacteristically quiet and gentle.  
  
Alistair nodded, _‘We can leave... afair we graduate. If we need tae.’_  
  
Mercedes added, _‘We’ve got enough saved up for a few months rent in a studio._ If _I don’t go on a shopping spree.’_ This made the male alter sigh and roll his eyes while the blonde frontwoman of the four of them smiled wryly, which was the golden skinned girl’s intent the entire time. _‘And hey, if that doesn’t work... maybe we could even bunk with our Mate? Barry and Mary seem like swell people.’_  
  
_‘Swell?’_ Abigail smirked.  
  
Golden cheeks flushed, _‘Shut up.’_  
  
The females, two women, one teen, shifted their weight awkwardly, the metaphorical gap between them - the broken and the non - finally, undeniably, acknowledged. The tension because of it was nearly palpable. There was no going back now. No matter what words were spoken, what actions taken. Things would never be the same.  
  
Abigail suddenly wanted to cut it with a knife and see if it popped like a balloon or if the tension would leak out like a slowly dripping pipe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alistair's Translation:
> 
> _‘We can leave... afair we graduate. If we need tae.’_ \- We can leave... before we graduate. If we need to.


	25. The Perfect Facade

A few more customers walked by, blatantly and surreptitiously staring at the three of them, all obviously curious of what was going on but remembering their supposed ‘ _manners_ ’ enough to not just waltz right up to them and demand to know what was going on. However, if this was a reality show, the blonde knew they would be sitting back with a bowl of popcorn, lapping up the tension like a cat with cream.  
  
Fucking vultures.  
  
Grace finally cleared her throat. “We’ll continue this conversation when we get home,” she announced.  
  
Gray eyes met brown, arms finally unfolding and going rod-straight on either side of her body. _‘Why, because you don’t want anyone else to look at us? You don’t want to be the one stared at like an animal in a cage? ’_ Abigail wanted to demand, her hands beginning to ball up, nails biting into the flesh of her palms. _‘You don’t want the judgement or the assumption that something is going on? You want to look like the perfect family? Well, tough shit. Welcome to my fucking world.’_ She wanted to sneer and the dizzyingly sharp urge to cause unbearable hurt to the woman, physically, emotionally, however way she could, welled up inside her breast like a burst of molten, white hot heat, causing her entire body to begin to tremble.  
  
Still, the older woman continued, unknowing of the abrupt, bubbling hatred for her. “Let’s go pick out some bedding, huh?”  
  
As quickly as it all ballooned up inside of her, Abigail was pushed aside and a new alter took her place, one who was able to box the blonde’s emotions and place it aside for later examination and possible deflation. This new alter forced her lips to curve up into a smile, one they would believe was full of relief. “Sounds good,” her voice, deeper, smoother than the three other older females’ like rich, dark chocolate, was calm, even, the perfect inflection to not cause suspicion.  
  
Grace’s shoulders relaxed and she smiled in turn, not having realized she caused a new split. The redhead reached out a hand and it took all of this female’s willpower to either not flinch or to turn her head and snap her jaw around the nearing fingers that ended up resting in a would-be, could-be comforting gesture but just felt like an invasion of personal space and an almost violation. Still, she held still and continued to keep her cheeks lifted until the older redhead turned away, grabbing the cart and starting forward.  
  
Glancing sharp, gray eyes at Faith who was watching her curiously, she continued to lift her cheeks until the younger redhead turned away to follow her sister towards where the bedding section was located. When their backs were turned to her, her face went slack and her hands unclenched. She glanced down and saw the eight crescent shaped cuts.  
  
“My name is… Clarke,” she decided, before she moved forward, the facade of the perfect daughter forming into place. 


	26. Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, first off, when I originally stared this story a couple of months ago and I got to this chapter number, it was much further in the story line than it is now. This is because, in the very first write out, there was sooo much **less** detail than there is now. And Clarke... she was unexpected. I was sitting down with my Muse and The Group trying to iron out wrinkles for the next few chapters I'm going over and perfecting for you guys and she literally just walked in, sat down, and told us all that she was needed so the story is nowhere even close to original draft.
> 
> Next, I know I did this a couple of chapters ago but I really want to say thank you again to everyone who continues to read, comment and give me kudos! You all rock so much and I totally love you for your continued support. I don't think this story would have developed as much as it had without you.
> 
> For specific shout outs, this week's go to **VibrantVenus** , **WordPorn** , **Dekusdante** , **zerousy** , **cheekypanda** , **Dekusdante** , **TawniToxic** , **wolvesnightmare** , **Twinwolf** , and my five unnamed kudoers me!

“You’re in a good mood, Barry,” Ethel commented as the man sauntered happily into the office to clock in off his break. “Something happen?”  
  
The elderly woman was luckily not a gossip so anything he told her would be kept quiet, unless it would directly affect work or anyone’s safety. She was kind and welcoming, like a mother _should be_ , and was his (and Kevin’s, and a few of the others’) first friend when they were first employed here, at the Philadelphia Zoo. And she didn’t judge. Afterall, her daughter had been diagnosed Bipolar and her younger brother had Down Syndrome. So it made a lot of sense that since the frontman for The System was indeed in a very good mood, he couldn’t help but announce, “Yes, I was texting my Mate.”  
  
Light green eyes widened in a face just beginning to wrinkle despite her having reached the halfway point of her fifth decade just last week. “Oh, Barry, that’s wonderful!” she grinned, reaching for his hand and gently pulling him closer. “Which one?”  
  
“Abigail,” he replied, still reveling in the euphoria as he leaned casually against her desk, bracing his hands on either side of him off the edge despite the requirement to get back out into the park and make the rounds to check on his division of personnel. She had seen a couple of his Marks, not all five - Alistair’s on his left forearm and Abigail’s on the same side’s bicep. “Mary had seen her a few days prior when she was doing her volunteering rounds at the hospital.” At Ethel’s surprised look, he explained quickly, “From what Mary could glean, she’d been in some sort of accident but she was on the road to recovery. So Mary left a note and Abigail finally got back to us.”  
  
Knowing green eyes peered closely at him for a moment. “But…?” she asked gently.  
  
Barry sighed, his mood deflating slightly. He glanced around, absently biting the side of his thumb, to make sure they were in fact alone. He replied, finally, voice quiet, “ _But_ …” he sighed heavily, “she’s only seventeen and still in high school.” His mind drifted to Dennis and he nearly cringed.  
  
Ethel cringed for him, though, probably not for the same reasons; while she had met the protective alter, it had been going on nearly five years since she had had contact with him and more than likely had forgotten about his existence. As the saying went, _‘Out of sight, out of mind’_ which was all the better because Kevin would get frantic about not allowing people to know of Dennis’ proclivities and explaining away his behavior made Barry uncomfortable.  
  
Barry suddenly let out a shocked hiss as he clutched his right wrist, his skin warmer than comfortable and prickling like it was regaining feeling. Twisting to see if there was any ailment, his jaw dropped as he peered at the small, perfectly neat, cursive now adorning his skin.  
  
**_Clarke_**.  
  
The System had another Mate. 


	27. Independence

“A new Mark?” Ethel asked, watching the man’s normally very open and smiling face shut down and his blue eyes darken as he stared at the black print. “Barry?”  
  
The man snapped out of his ruminative state and glanced up, grimacing, as he replied quietly, “Please excuse me, Ethel. I need to make a call.” He stood up and pulled out his phone, adding hastily, “I promise I’ll talk to you later.” He swiftly walked out of the office and into another one, this one completely empty. Scrolling through his contacts, he found Hope’s information and pressed the green telephone button to automatically dial her number.  
  
The phone rang five times and went to voicemail. “The prescriber you are trying to reach has not set up their voice messaging mailbox. Please hang up and try your call again. Good bye.” The phone call automatically ended. Barry grew more pensive as he hit redial only to receive the same results. Worry gripped him tightly and then he tried again, this time with a text message, though he knew he was being presumptuous. They had not confirmed whether Hope and Abigail were like them. However, the suddenness of the newest Mark and his own experiences with emerging alters, it couldn’t be coincidence. He just hoped, if he was right, the newest alter for Hope, Abigail, her… group, or whatever it was called, was not floundering, as a few had for The System when they had first appeared.  
  
**_‘Are you alright? Another Mark has appeared. Please text when you’re able. ~Barry.’_**  
  
He waited two minutes before his walkie talkie crackled to life. “Hey, Crumb? You there?” came Heather’s voice.  
  
Groaning at the distraction, he picked up and pressed the button, waiting for the beep to finish before speaking. “I’m here. I’m heading off break now. What’s going on?”  
  
There was static for a moment before “John’s not responding and one of the kids puked outside the reptile house.”  
  
Grimacing, Barry announced he would track down the wayward janitorial staff member who was shirking his duties in his respective area. Glancing at his phone one more time, he had no reply yet and made a quiet promise to himself that if he did not hear from at least Abigail by the time they got off work, he would try calling once again until someone answered. Pocketing it, he headed back to work. 

* * *

Back at Bed Bath and Beyond, Clarke glanced down at the screen of her phone.  
  
**_2 missed calls_**  
  
**_1 new text message_**  
  
Without opening the messaging app, she swiped her thumb down and read the text via the notification bar. She breathed deeply and then pocketed the smartphone once more. Grace wanted her to pay attention to herself and Faith and as the perfect daughter, she would do as told. She ignored the multiple questions of the alters all clamoring to get to know her, and smirked at Abigail’s growing ire of being overlooked. She did not answer to any of them. 


	28. Addition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to **WordPorn** for your faithful and wonderful review, and to my 5 unnamed guests who left me kudos, I really, _really, **really**_ appreciate all the love and support! And hey, if you see something you like, if you see something you might not be totally fond of, or even if you find something that may not add up (because I have it more explained out in my head than on paper which tends to happen and warrant revision), drop me a line.
> 
> Much love, from me to you guys. Happy Friday!

The arrival of a new alter, or at least in The Group’s case, was something out of a Disney movie - almost Tim Burton-esque style that is. The set up for them, was also much different, or at least from what Alistair and Abigail had been able to read about it through their access to the public libraries spread throughout downtown Philadelphia. Instead of all the alters sitting in a circle of chairs with a chair in the center for ‘the taking of the light’, theirs was a small movie theater.  
  
Situated over plush maroon, velvet carpeting, each alter sat in a large, cushy recliner, all in a line and facing the same direction where a large screen reflected what the alter in charge of the body saw and heard. Behind the line of chairs sat an oversized projector almost like an old 90’s school projector. From the glass topped platform on which the alter taking charge of the body stood, a light flooded up and through the body. From there, it bounced off the angled mirror and onto the screen for the rest of the alters’ viewing pleasure.  
  
Almost like someone’s personal movie theater.  
  
When Clarke appeared, however, Abigail, who had been standing on the projector platform at the time, had felt a tremble begin and all of them had seen the lights - beneath her and the dim wall sconces - flickered once, twice, before plunging into darkness for a long moment. Emma and Mercedes both cried out in fear while Alistair stiffened within his seat, clenching the armrests, and Abigail fell to her knees. Then the lights flickered back on, a mass of dark clouds stood before the seats, dissipating slowly to reveal a new figure.  
  
Clarke was, at first glance, the tallest of all the female alters, around five foot nine or so. Two wine-red braids were woven from her temples and pulled back and secured at the back of her head where the rest of her hair was then twisted into a smooth bun and secured with an old fashioned silver comb. Her clothing style was simple but elegant, each piece complimenting each other _just so_.  
  
Before, when there had just been the five of them, the middle seat, which was left open for Hope, was (when looking at the row from the front) flanked with Alistair and Abigail’s designated spots on the left and Emma and Mercedes on the right. The not-quite symmetry of having the fair alters on one side and the darker brunettes on the other side was broken as Clarke surveyed the line of chairs and spotted the newest seat, _hers_ , beside Mercedes. However, she had moved forward and grabbed Abigail by the back of her collar and heaved the blonde from the projection platform and took her place.  
  
All of this had happened in a matter of seconds and had left the four other alters emotional and shaken.  
  
“Does this mean Hope doesn’t need us anymore?” Emma finally asked, voice quiet, trembling. 


	29. Need

“Of course Hope needs us,” Mercedes immediately replied, glaring heatedly back at Clarke over her shoulder who continued to ignore them while acclimating to her new body.   
  
Abigail, who had limped back to her seat after having been thrown like a ragdoll, added, “Who’s going to show Hope how to have a good time and just relax and play with her toys like you do? Who’s going to be able to make up such fantastical stories?”   
  
Mercedes shot the blonde alter a grateful smile across the empty seat separating them.   
  
Abigail sighed and sat back, shooting her own glare up at the new female before once again glancing at the empty seat in the middle. They would have to wake _her_ up, sooner rather than later, but the self-proclaimed-not-exactly-leader wanted to settle the rest of them into their new life before Hope returned. And this Clarke was a variable she hadn’t calculated. She sneered, looking over the short sheath dress the red-brunet had on. It was obviously expensive and a cut above what the rest of them wore made more than likely of silk or some other very high class material Hope would probably never be able to afford in real life unless they miraculously found it in a consignment shop.   
  
Today, Mercedes was favoring flip-flops, skin tight jeans under a low cut tank and oversized, wide necked top that best emphasized and flattered her sexuality. Emma had on green knee-length shorts whose hem was embroidered with yellow threaded flowers under her pink and yellow Dora The Explorer tee-shirt. Alistair was on par with Clarke only clothing wise. His outfit was as Abigail had described to her foster family - his white oxford was under a gray and blue three-button waistcoat to complement his cornflower blue gaze and matching pressed slacks. When Hope was awake, she stuck with dark colors and a few layers of baggy clothing to conceal her figure - usually all clothing from the boys’/men’s section though she recognized herself as female; it was just much easier to not draw attention to her body that way. As for Abigail, this morning she had donned a cream and pink patchwork flowing skirt and a light pink long-sleeved blouse.   
  
Mercedes liked to tell Abigail that she looked like ‘such a mom’, which was good because, admittedly, the forever twenty-six-year-old alter recognized she was emulating the few photographs of Caroline that Joseph had kept after her passing.   
  
Alistair once again leaned forward and opened his arms and the little girl got out of her seat and came running, cuddling up in his lap, nearly purring like a happy kitten when Abigail reached over and ran her fingers through the child’s chin-length black hair. Over the child’s head, the lone male shot her a look. As much as the blonde controlled the four of them, she needed to regain control from this new alter until everything could be balanced between the six of them - _five_ , he corrected himself, as Hope slept on. 


	30. Introductions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These next two chapters are dedicated to: **zerousy** , **Anthony_kitty** , **Dekusdante** **WordPorn** , **CrimsonDeathAngel** , **slycatsmeow** , **wintalite** , **Aerun** , **LoveRoundWorld** , and 6 unnamed guests for both the several reviews and kudos! Thank you guys!

Clarke knew the moment she came into being that she was not the first alter, nor the second or third. She was in fact the fifth, which was confirmed when she opened her gray eyes and took in four faces all turned towards her. However, she didn’t have time yet to interact with them. She needed to protect Hope, to be the perfect daughter and she would do that to the best of her ability. Plus, if she spoke aloud to answer their many questions, the new foster mother and aunt - which had caused her existence in the first place - would once more look at her _that_ way, which she could not allow.  
  
She _would not_ allow it.  
  
Finally coming up to the section of the store where bedding was placed on display, Clarke paused, glancing at the women whom she had followed. She did not know as much as she would have liked, having come into existence so recently but she had an impression of memories - the older redhead was Grace, the younger Faith, and they were her new family after the multitude of horrors the rest of the alters had been facing for several years. The two of them also knew of her _condition_ and had her assigned to a doctor. And while meeting their doctor Abigail had met one of their Mates, one of twenty-three as per the knowledge of having many, many Marks covering her body.  
  
The phone in her hoodie pouch pocket - she swallowed a sneer at such _terrible_ clothing choices and tried not to let her skin crawl from the feeling of such low quality, scratchy and rough material - felt heavier than it should have after another Mate ( ** _Barry_** the text message had proclaimed) had tried to contact her and she had ignored him. He would need to know that she was not now nor ever beholden to him.  
  
“Are you alright, Abigail?” came from Grace.  
  
Clarke breathed in, pushing away the annoyance at being called a different name than her own. The woman didn’t know and the unintentional slight would be temporarily overlooked. “Abigail had to step away for a moment. My name is Clarke,” she informed them, voice soft, gentle, combined with a placid smile that did not quite reach her eyes.  
  
The two older women froze and glanced at each other but then nodded. Grace announced gently, “Alright, I’m not sure if Abigail shared with you but you’re here to pick out bedding for you all.” Clarke nodded in understanding but Grace continued, “You can pick out up to two different blankets, quilts, comforters, whatever you would like. You may then pick out three different sets of sheets. From there, Abigail agreed to go to Wal-Mart, at least while you are… healing.” The oldest redhead hesitated, adding, “She never mentioned you. Is there… a reason for that?”  
  
The young woman glanced down bashfully, replying a bit evasively, “I’m rather new.” Grace nodded and waved her hand, turning back to her sister. 


	31. Compromise

_‘Yeah, you’re fucking new alright,’_ Mercedes snorted to herself.  
  
Abigail immediately shot back, _‘Language,’_ while Emma piped up giddily, _‘Swear jar!’_  
  
The golden skinned alter scoffed and rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her ample bosom. _‘Yeah, yeah, what the fuck ever,’_ she sassed back, emphasising the curse and the child grinned even wider. _‘Oh hey, we need to call DJ and ask if we still have a job. I’m sure he can talk Nuno out of firing us when we tell them what happened.’_  
  
Abigail nodded and made a mental note to either call herself or have Clarke do it ASAP. They all liked working at the Drexel College bookstore.  
  
The alters all settled into watch Clarke move their body forward, realizing they would not get their questions answered. Yet. There were so many bright colors and patterns all folded neatly in either flimsy plastic or cardboard shaped cloth square packages and stocked tightly on shelves that were chest-high in the middle of the alcove and higher still on the walls. It was almost… _overwhelming_.  
  
_‘What about that one?’_ Mercedes asked, watching as Clarke, in turn, moved their hand to the right. _‘Oh so you_ are _listening to us.’_  
  
Clark muttered under her breath, making sure no one saw her speaking seemingly to herself, “We will speak more in depth in privacy. For now, **be** quiet.” Her tone was commanding and haughty and the darker girl snarled quietly.  
  
Despite the mounting tension between them, the alter currently in charge pulled out the bedding Mercedes had requested and glanced down at the picture on the plastic package and Alistair immediately cringed. _‘Please nae 'at un. It's v’ra pink.’_ It was slowly pushed back onto the shelf. _‘At looks prumisin’.’_ The teen reached for a neatly folded velvet-like blanket, Emma instantly cooing at the softness of it. It was also not that heavy in weight but as she pressed the taupe colored bundle to her chest, warmth was easily created.  
  
Emma piped up, _‘It’s so soft! Can we keep it? Pwease?’_  
  
Mercedes rolled her eyes. _‘Don’t use baby talk, runt,’_ she snapped, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder, _‘or you’re getting no say what kind of sheets we get.’_ The child’s lower lip trembled but the older alter was not swayed in the least. Nor was the male or other female alter moved at all, either. She let out a huff and sat back, pouting with her skinny arms crossed over her small chest. _‘I like it,’_ Mercedes told the redhead. _‘Plus, it’ll feel really good when I’m nake-’_  
  
_‘Keep your lewd comments to yourself,’_ Clarke snapped, turning towards the two females and the cart and starting forward with the Berkshire blanket in hand.  
  
The women broke off what they were quietly arguing about and looked up. “Found something, sweetie?” Clarke cringed inwardly but smiled once again. “Are you going to look for another blanket? There’s also many different comforters and quilts to choose from as well, you know.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alistair Translation:
> 
> _‘Please nae 'at un. It's v’ra pink.’_ \- Please not that one. It's very pink.
> 
> _‘At looks prumisin’.’_ \- That looks promising.


	32. Compromise, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These next two chapters are dedicated to **Void_24** , **Dekusdante** , and **zerousy**. Thank you guys for your reviews! I hope you guys have a good labor day weekend and don't work too hard! ;)

_‘We need a cute blanket this time!’_ Emma called from her seat, bouncing excitedly.  
  
Mercedes added, _‘And something with color.’_  
  
Alistair muttered, _‘Naethin' tae girly, please.’_  
  
_‘Nothing too masculine,’_ Abigail commented, shooting the alter beside her a smirk.  
  
Looking through the shelves, Clarke tried to find something that fit all their requests, while simultaneously also fitting her own desires as well. However, every time she reached for something, someone would complain. _‘That’s not pretty enough!’ ‘Nae 'at colur.’ ‘That’s too masculine!’ ‘I am_ not _sleeping with that.’ ‘Tae pink.’_  
  
Clarke felt her frustration grow and growled, finally turning and spotting something tucked in the far corner of the wall shelves. Toddling over to the plastic case, she carefully pulled it out, wincing as her ribs protested and let out a breath as a genuine and utterly relieved grin split her face. “The Baroque Tile Reversible Quilt Set,” she read aloud, looking over the image. “It’s not really girly but it is colorful and the embroidery is pretty. Can we come to an agreement on this?”  
  
The five others debated quietly and answered unanimously, _‘Yes.’_  
  
_‘Let’s get the pretty blue,’_ Emma added.  
  
_‘I like the red,’_ Mercedes argued.  
  
Abigail glanced to Alistair who shrugged, stating silently he liked whatever color choice, since on the shelf there were three options. She became the voice of reason once more, sitting up and saying, _‘We have three options: the blue, the red, and the tannish color.’_  
  
“Taupe,” Clarke read off, attempting to be helpful.  
  
_‘Thank you,’_ Abigail replied flatly. _‘The soft blanket we have is the tannish - excuse me, taupe.’_ Clarke scowled at the mocking tone. _‘This leaves just red or blue. Clarke,’_ the alter in charge of the body straightened and focused on the voice in her head barking orders, _‘go into the app store and find a free coin flip app.’_ The teen begrudgingly did as she was told, glancing over at her foster family who was still busily talking quietly to themselves. Finally, she opened it. _‘Heads for blue, tails - red,’_ Abigail pronounced and Clarke pressed her finger on the coin. It virtually flipped and spun quickly, finally landing on heads.  
  
_‘Best two out of three!’_ Mercedes snapped.  
  
Abigail flung her hands up. _‘Fine! Clarke… please,’_ she said, her voice softer, kinder this time. The second spin landed on tails, as did the third. Clarke sighed and put her phone away, ignoring the missed phone calls and text once more. She grabbed the package for the red and cream quilt and turned about, one stress finally being over. Maneuvering through the thin aisles, she trotted up to the cart and placed her second item next to the first. The sisters looked over at her and both attempted a smile.  
  
“It looked like you were arguing,” Faith commented, pulling out her phone absently and glancing at the screen for a moment.  
  
Clarke nodded. “We were,” she confirmed, sighing and leaning heavily on the side of the cart. “Having… _siblings_... is very difficult.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, subtitles for Alistair, if you couldn't quite understand him! And if you go back and look at earlier chapters (if you didn't get drowned in update emails (if you did I am so, _so, **so**_ sorry!!!)), I've added subtitles for all of Alistair's dialogue at the end of each chapter in which he speaks.
> 
>  _‘Naethin' tae girly, please.’_ \- Nothing too girly.
> 
>  _‘Nae 'at colur.’_ \- Not that color.
> 
>  _'Tae pink.'_ \- Too pink.


	33. Avoidance

The sheets were a bit easier to pick out though Emma wanted more than one set and had to pick between Paw Patrol or Disney princess sheets, _which was sooo hard_ , the six-year-old whined. The second set they decided on was a tan Jersey cotton blend and the third was a light blue microfiber set. And the curtains were even easier because all Alistair requested was blackout, while Mercedes and Abigail didn’t really really give a shit between them. Emma was the one who spotted them and squealed happily at the “pretty” black and silver stitched star pattern curtains.  
  
Purchasing the five items, the tension had dissipated to an ignorable level between the three women, but wasn’t completely gone. Especially since both women kept glancing at the teenager, their gazes roving over her as if trying to see through her layers of clothing down to her skin to see the nearly two dozen Marks and verify their existence for themselves. This time, instead of getting angry at their perusal like Abigail had done, Clarke was easily able to ignore it.  
  
The wind had picked up a little bit when they stepped outside the warm store and the blonde shivered slightly in her jacket, hobbling faster after Grace and Faith to the red SUV, slipping inside gratefully. Her leg and ribs ached something fierce while her face stung from the biting wind whipping at the colorful bruising. She could not wait to be fully healed and for it to be Spring. When the driver and passenger seats were all filled, Grace called over her shoulder, voice elevated to be heard above the blasting vents to help heat the inside of the vehicle, “So, we’re going to head to Wal-Mart next to let you pick out a few more sets of sweats before you get that cast taken off. Once it is, we can go out and go on an actual shopping trip. Does that sound okay?”  
  
_‘Don’t do me any favors or anything,’_ Abigail hissed under her breath, her pride still smarting before seeing Emma watching her curiously and cautiously. _‘Sorry, Em. Don’t mind me.’_  
  
Out loud, Clarke replied sweetly, “Yes, thank you, Grace.” The redhead nodded and pulled out of the shopping center.  
  
Finally feeling the heat in the backseat, Clarke reached into her hoodie pocket and finally pulled out her phone and sighed, shoulders slumping as she finally checked the new text message from Barry before reading through the whole of the conversation to acclimate herself better. She frowned when she realized that the two Mates Abigail has been speaking with had both actively avoided the topic of her being underage. That obviously meant they were both older than Hope was. But that begged the question of how much older could they be? And how would she go about asking that? Perhaps request to meet? For the first time since she had come into the world, Clarke was unsure of herself. She knew, it probably wouldn’t be the last. 


	34. Response

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to **zerousy** , **Void_24** , **Xerotheory90** , and my unnamed guest for your reviews and kudos.
> 
> Now, I apologize for the lack of Kevin and the System/Horde interactions with Hope and the System. I promise it is coming! Soon!
> 
> And holy shit, we've hit 2000 reads! Thank you so much you guys! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

Clarke sighed and finally hit the ‘reply’ button. **_‘Barry, this is Clarke. We are well’_** She hesitated on what to continued to be able to tell him.  
  
Abigail spoke up from her seat, _‘Tell him… **‘We are well despite the new split caused by stress’**. You should also let him know if you’re… adapting... or not. He kinda comes off as a bit of an internal worrier.’_  
  
_‘What’s an internal worrier?’_ Emma asked.  
  
The blonde alter replied, _‘Someone who gets worried about things or other people very easily but doesn’t express it to anyone to avoid stressing them out, which sort of just compounds - builds - the stress up higher.’_  
  
The child bobbed her dark head of hair, replying, _‘Like you?’_  
  
Abigail opened her mouth to speak but Mercedes cut over her, _‘Yeah, like Mommy-dearest.’_ Gray eyes met rich brown ones across the gap. _‘Don’t deny it. You were_ made _to be the mother Hope never had and you take care of us - all of us, whether we like it or not.’_ It was as close to a compliment as she was going to get from the the younger woman and she found herself smiling despite herself.  
  
Swallowing her pride, Clarke admitted under her breath, “I’m not entirely good at… expressing my... feelings. What else should I say?” Her words brought them all back on track of the reply they were gearing up to send.  
  
**_‘Barry, this is Clarke. We are well despite the new split caused by stress from my foster mother which resulted in me.’_**  
  
Mercedes snapped, _‘Don’t say that! Take out that last part!’_  
  
Despite the barking orders, they **would** work on their communication skills later, when they were alone and no one would think she was talking to herself and commit her to an asylum, Clarke removed the second half of what she had written so it read like this now. **_‘Barry, this is Clarke. We are well despite the new split caused by stress. Please don’t worry too much about us.’_**  
  
The alters all glanced at each other and figured it covered all bases. Clarke finally hit **_‘Send’_** and watched as it was labeled **_‘Delivered’_**. They waited for a long five minutes to see if he would get the chance to reply.  
  
_‘Why isn’t he answering,’_ Emma finally whined, bouncing her legs off of her seat.  
  
Abigail sighed and answered, _‘He could be working hard.’_  
  
_‘Or he could be hardly working,’_ Mercedes mused, attempted humor in her voice, snapping her fingers with both of her hands and pointing at the blonde mother figure who rolled her eyes at the younger girl’s antics. _‘Oh come on. That was funny.’_ Emma cheekily agreed. _‘See? Even the runt agrees.’_  
  
Alistair just smiled at his girls before sighing and glancing up at Clarke. So far, there hadn’t been too much trouble, but it was early yet. Not that he wanted there to be trouble but the five of them would need to sit down together and set some ground rules. 


	35. There's No Place Like Home

Finally, the three women were making their way ‘home’, dropping Faith off first before getting extremely lucky and finding parking directly in front of the house. It wasn’t too far from their school, either, which was awesome because they wouldn’t have to switch school districts halfway through senior year. Luckily for them, however, Grace had assured Clarke she wasn’t going to go back to school yet so she had a few more days freedom before dealing with all the stares, the whispering, and the false apologies for what had happened to her when most of _them_ didn’t even know her name.   
  
Grabbing two of the large shopping bags from the back seat, Grace grabbing the other two, Clarke hobbled after her foster mother up the four freshly painted blue-grey steps and onto the small covered porch. Two honey wooden rocking chairs sat on the porch on either side of a small, round black iron and blue glass table. From the ceiling of the porch roof hung three hooks each holding up a potted plant with long winding vines and large glossy leaves. It was pretty. Grace pulled open the outer door and unlocked the inner wooden door, also freshly painted blue-grey.   
  
A wave of warmth washed over them as she followed Grace inside, looking around after closing the door behind her. Her first though was cozy and welcoming. The floor was glossy wood laminate. The wall to her left, where it didn’t host the carpeted stairwell or numerous picture frames, was a very light blue. The wall to her right was exposed brown brick, adding to the charm of the home.   
  
Grace took off her shoes, placing them upon a mat before taking off her coat and taking the bags up the stairs. Clarke followed the older woman’s example and hobbled up to the room located at the top of the stairs. Looking around, she instantly found her things from her old life had been packed up and were waiting on the naked twin XL mattress. The other simple furniture located around the room was a bedside table, a chest-high bureau and small desk and rolling chair. Her closet even had double hinged doors. The bed, the drawers and desk were all new too, as if _just_ for her.   
  
“Whenever you feel up to it,” Grace assured her, “Jon and I arranged with Joseph’s landlord to be able to go into your old apartment and gather anything else you might want to keep before it all gets trashed or given to Goodwill and the apartment rented out once more.” Clarke nodded, smiling gratefully at the older woman, watching her retreat to give the young woman some space.   
  
“I am ready to give up control,” Clarke whispered aloud, sinking herself into their inner mind theater and stepping down. Abigail quickly took her place, sighing in relief.   
  
The teen’s phone buzzed. **_‘Off work, babe. You up for a phone call? ~Barry’_**  
  
Abigail could say no… or not answer.   
  
Instead… **_‘Yes. Ready when you are ~Abigail.’_**


	36. Talk To Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter goes out to: **Word_Porn** , **zerousy** , **MadhatterMia** , and my unnamed guest for my reviews and kudos. I am so sorry for the lack of our couple meeting up and spending time together but I hope this chapter alleviates some of that. I also promise our couple is going to be meeting up again soon!!!

Listening to the noises wafting up from the first floor, Abigail deduced that her foster mother was washing all of her clothes and bedding before she would have them returned to her to make up her bed and to put away. Turning to the duffle bag, she unzipped it and threw back the flap only to suck in a sharp breath, tears instantly springing to her eyes. Reverently, she slid her hands into the bag and pulled the old red panda up to her chest, lowering her face against its fur, roughened after eleven years of cuddling.  
  
_‘Reddy!’_ Emma squealed happily.  
  
The stuffed red panda was the last gift Hope had been given - by her grandmother when she had been six years old and they had visited the Philadelphia Zoo for her birthday. Hope had wanted a stuffed animal, though she didn’t care what kind since she had never really had a teddy bear or anything of the like before. Emma had been the one to pick it out so he was mainly hers, though the little girl didn’t mind sharing with Hope or any of the others, as long as they didn’t hurt Reddy.  
  
Abigail breathed in deeply and slowly, gently placed the stuffed animal on the naked pillow on her bed before turning to close her bedroom door.  
  
The cell phone on the bedside table began to vibrate, loudly.  
  
Swallowing, the blonde picked up the phone and pressed the green button. “Abigail speaking,” she said as way of greeting.  
  
There was a heavy breath on the other end, like a sigh though she couldn’t gauge the mood of it, and then, “Hey, honey, it’s Barry.” His voice was different than she had imagined it to be but from the vague idea she had of him in her head, it suited him. “Are you finished with your errands? Is now a good time?”  
  
Yeah, he did sound like he could be a worrier.  
  
Abigail hummed, nodding, then remembering he couldn’t see her, replied, “You actually have great timing. We got home a few minutes before you got off work and texted us. Grace is washing our new bedding and clothes and I’m about to start putting away all the stuff from our old life.”  
  
He made a happy noise. “That’s good,” she could hear the smile in his voice. “Are you… settling in... okay?”  
  
“I only _just_ got here… so ask me again in a few days.” He hummed quietly. “Go ahead. Ask about today.”  
  
He sighed once more, this one saddened. “May I ask… what happened? What… caused the split?”  
  
This time, Abigail sighed and sat down on her bed, suddenly unable to support her weight as the world felt like it was crashing down on her shoulders. “They - my foster mother and aunt - didn’t know how many Marks I had… so I made a mistake and told them.” She sighed once more. “They didn’t react well. I really wish I hadn’t but… they were pushing to know.” 


	37. Same

Abigail’s voice hardened as she added, “They just… _stared_ at me… like I was a freak or something and I just… I wanted to either run away or I wanted… I wanted to _hurt_ them or just… just… _something_ , you know? I just, I remember being so angry it was overwhelming and then Clarke was just there and she was able to navigate out of the situation and back on track.” The blonde sighed, voice returning to the quiet tone it had had before when she had first answered the phone. “I don’t… get that angry - normally. When I thought back on it, it scared me that I got that way.”  
  
There was a quiet shuffling in the background before Barry responded, “Honey, you’re not in the wrong.” His words were gentle. “We - I mean the twenty-three of us, we call ourselves The System, by the way, just in case I say it randomly - we went through the stares ourselves. Kat is… you haven’t met Kat yet, right?”  
  
“No, not yet. Wait, what do you mean The System… Are you…? I don’t know how to even ask it of you.”  
  
Barry sighed. “Have you ever heard of DID - Dissociative Identity Disorder? People often call it MPD - Multiple Personality Disorder - as well.”  
  
“When there’s more than one person in your head?” Abigail asked, feeling her chest tighten, her grip tightening on the phone she was pressing tightly to her ear.  
  
Barry hummed and there was another rustling sound before he added, “Yeah, that’s it.” He sighed. “We… Kevin has it. I’m... I’m an alter.” Abigail’s world froze that second as she heard his words on loop. Mercedes and Emma looked at each other before looking at Alistair, their faces all contorted with shock and wonder. Clarke’s face remained impassive except for the loosening of her jaw. And Hope twitched upon her bed but didn’t waken.  
  
Not yet.  
  
Abigail didn’t realize she had started crying until she sucked in a greedy breath and tears leaked down, splashing upon her sweatpant clad legs and she began sobbing. “Oh, babe! Are you crying?” Barry’s voice had taken on a distressed note. “I’m sorry to drop this bomb on you like-”  
  
“ _No_ ,” the blonde shouted, cutting him off and winced, realizing the volume might attract Grace. “I’m sorry, no, I mean - yes I’m crying, but I’m relieved. I thought…” She wiped at her face and wished she had a tissue or something and contented herself for wiping her nose on her hoodie sleeve. “Growing up… with so many Marks…” she shook her head. She wouldn’t tell him about Joseph’s treatment of her. Not yet, at least. “I just… I’m - we’re - the same.” Then she sighed again, adding, “Please, don’t be angry but we had to make Hope sleep. She’s so… fragile… so I’ve been taking care of everyone - well, we take care of each other but… that’s my main role to protect Hope - to care for her as her mother would have had Caroline lived.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***phew*** So now they both most definitely know for sure they both have DID. No more wondering or speculations. It is out in the open and what a relief it is for... well... actually both of them.
> 
> Questions, comments, concerns, drop me a line and I hope you have a good weekend!


	38. Baby Steps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout outs to: **zerousy** , **Dekusdante** , and my two unnamed guests. Thank you guys so much and I hope you enjoy as the puzzle pieces start falling into place in this update!

Barry felt floored as her words played on repeat in his head.  
  
_‘We’re the same.’_  
  
_‘We had to make Hope sleep.’_  
  
_‘That’s my main role to protect Hope.’_  
  
He let out a breath and felt his mouth stretch so wide it began to hurt. “This… this is…” He couldn’t put into words what he felt as joy, excitement, understanding, and even a touch of regret and sadness lashed through him all at once. At least she - _they_ , he corrected himself - _they_ would all understand. However, his mother came to mind and he wondered who had hurt her. Caroline - Hope’s mother, he assumed from their conversation - had died when Hope had been young. Who had hurt her?  
  
_‘I mean, she’s still young if she’s in high school,’_ Barry grimaced at the thought. But it was late February, nearly March so as soon as she graduated, he couldn’t get into too much trouble for being with her. _‘I mean, she’s my Mate anyway…’_  
  
“I understand the feeling,” Abigail’s voice brought him back. He heard her sigh and something like shuffle about a bit on her end before she added, “So… what now?”  
  
The casual question was so simple, so innocent but also so full of depth and promise and terrifying possibility it caused Barry to let out a breath of laughter. “Now,” he replied, shifting his weight as he leaned against the wall just left to the side exit to the service tunnel that lead to his home. “Now, we learn about each other. We let all of our alters meet each other and go from there.”  
  
He could hear the smile in her voice as she commented quietly, “I like this plan.” He heard her swallow before she added, “So, I graduate high school in June. I’m not sure on the date yet…”  
  
“I’d be happy to be there if you’re edging up to the question of if I’d like to be there?”  
  
“Yes.” She sounded embarrassed, though reading emotions through voice alone was not his forte. Kat and Ansel were best at that. “Would you do me the honor of coming to graduation… if you can take off work?” Then she cut him off before he could give a formal reply, “What is it you do, by the way? Er… sorry for talking over you… I tend to sort of word vomit when I get on a topic of interest.”  
  
Barry grinned, “It’s fine, sunshine,” he replied, waiting for her reaction to the new nickname. He heard a happy hum on her end and assumed that she approved of it. “First, I would be honored to attend your graduation,” he teased her gently, hearing another happy hum, though this one sounded more like an excited trill. “Second, I am actually a supervisor at the Philadelphia Zoo.”  
  
This caused a surprised laugh to fall from her lips. “That’s such a wonderful coincidence,” he could hear how pleased she was.  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Yeah, my class is scheduled for a trip next week.” 


	39. Planning

“Does this mean I get to sort of stalk you at work?” Barry could hear the teasing in Abigail’s voice.  
  
He felt his grin widen, though he wasn’t sure how it was possible. “I suppose so, especially since you know what I look like - well, Kevin, technically.”  
  
His Mate let out an unladylike snort. “Yeah, but I’ll more than likely give the game away the minute I see your face,” she admitted. “This is why I’ll never be able to learn how to play poker.”  
  
Barry laughed at that. “Don’t tell Ian that. He’ll force you to learn to play,” he commented, biting his tongue to keep from adding on that Ian would probably take advantage of the situation and teach her through strip poker. Although, she _was_ their Mate and _at least_ seventeen… He quickly shook those thoughts away, souring as he thought that he maybe sounded just a bit too much like Dennis at the moment. Instead, he commented aloud, “He loves card games, knows dozens of them.”  
  
The teasing was still in her voice and he found it a very pleasing sound, “So does that mean I should take him to a casino in a few years when I can actually attend one?”  
  
“Please don’t,” the man groaned, grinning wryly. “He’ll be insufferable once he hits that snag after a winning streak. It happens every time.”  
  
“Ah,” he heard her voice lose some of its humor. “Hang on a second, hun.” A grin formed on his lips at the endearment. Straining his ears, he heard a muffled noise on her end, someone speaking to her. “Yeah, pizza is fine. I’m good with everything but sardines and pineapple so whatever you want. Supreme is good,” Abigail’s voice was heard to say a little farther away than it had been. Then, “Barry…” His ears perked up. “No, he’s not a friend from school. He’s… um… well…” Her answer was not verbal so he was left a little bereft not knowing. Was he an embarrassment to her? “Yes, he knows how many I have.” her voice had taken a very decidedly defensive edge and understanding flooded him; it sounded like she was trying to protect him. “Thanks.” It was quiet for another moment. “Sorry, I’m back now.”  
  
“Your foster mother?” he clarified.  
  
Abigail made a confirming hum. “Yeah, apparently we’re getting pizza,” she deflected. “On that note… how do you feel about pineapple on your pizza?”  
  
He made a face. “I don’t favor it. Rakel, however, does.”  
  
“I guess I’ll just have to get over it. Pineapple in general is gross.”  
  
Barry decided not to argue because he loved eating it by itself. Instead, he suggested, “Perhaps it’s just too sweet for you.” She made another agreeing hum. Pizza did actually sound good. His stomach suddenly rumbled greedily. Glancing up at the darkening sky and adjusting his coat against the chill, he was up for retreiving it. Delivery was a hassle for him so he always ended up walking there. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you see what I did there? Let me know what you think...


	40. Pizza Dads

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update goes out to **Zerousy** , **Crystal_Jean** , and my three unnamed guests. I am seriously looking forward to your reactions to this update.

Abigail wanted to grumble but didn’t want to set a bad example for Emma even though she - the older she, not the younger - didn’t see why The Group had to go with Grace to pick up the pizza some twenty minutes later after having wrapped up her conversation with her Mate when he mentioned he was going to place his own order for pizza. Okay, yes, she did need to know the layout of her new neighborhood but her body was really beginning to hurt and she hadn’t taken more pain medication yet. Luckily, though, it was only a ten minute walk down to the pizza shop on Girard Avenue, give or take, and her new coat was keeping her upper body nice and warm with her hands stuffed deep into the pockets. Now if only she had a scarf and some kind of hat for her poor ears and nose. And an extra layer of leggings or something.  
  
“So you’ve never had Pizza Dads?” Grace asked as they finally approached the restaurant in question. The older woman pulled open the door, the immediate splash of warmth washing over Abigail’s chilled body.  
  
Unbuttoning her outside coat so she didn’t overheat herself, Abigail shook her head, her curls brushing her stinging cheeks. “I usually called Luigi’s down on Chestnut Street.”  
  
The redhead made a curious noise. “Never had them.”  
  
Abigail shrugged. “They were fine, especially if Jimmy made my pizza.” At the older woman’s curious look, she elaborated, “Jimmy was an acquaintance from school, a year ahead of me. He also lived on my block.”  
  
Grace shot her a conspiratorial grin, asking, “Is he your boyfriend?”  
  
The blonde snorted. “His boyfriend, Tom, - who happens to be his Mate and whom I actually get along with decently when he’s not being a diva - would be devastated to hear you even ask that.”  
  
The woman shrugged. “Well, the boys didn’t want me setting them up with someone and…” she trailed off, glancing around the small store and taking in the amount of ears. “Well, never mind.”  
  
Abigail stared at the back of the woman’s head. _‘Gonna make a comment about my Marks?’_ she wanted to demand with a sneer, a furrow forming between her brows. _‘Do it. I dare you.’_  
  
“Grace!” the man, clearly a former New Yorker by his thick Brooklyn accent, behind the counter called out, spreading his hands wide. “Haven’t seen you in a minute! And who’s this lovely shadow of yours?”  
  
The redhead glanced back, placing a hand on the blonde’s shoulder as she made introductions, “Tony, this is Abigail. Hopefully, she’ll be a regular.” The teen forced her cheeks up in a semblance of a smile, the warmth of the shop finally thawing them so they didn’t hurt anymore. With that done, Abigail turned away from the counter and immediately bumped into someone taller and much more solid than her, letting out a quiet, “Omph.”  
  
“I am so sorry, honey.”  
  
That voice had Abigail’s gray eyes snapping up. 


	41. Invitation

Happy surprise flittered across her features, her lips tugging wide. With her Cheshire-like grin in place, Abigail drank in the sight of her Mate, murmuring, “Barry.”  
  
The man blinked vivid blue eyes down at her from beneath thick brows and above an easy going smile. “That’s me,” he nodded slightly, pulling his marble gray beanie from his closely shaved head with hands covered in fingerless black gloves. He was obviously waiting for her to either introduce herself or to explain how she knew him.  
  
Or both.  
  
Still, she couldn’t help but drink him in while Mercedes and Emma both shouted for joy and Alistair instantly sat up straight in his chair, sliding to the edge, a look of concentration upon his normally closed off features. The man’s long dark burgundy coat was zipped closed, hanging to just over his knees revealing what looked like dark blue slacks tucked into male ankle boots that had seen better days. From his coat collar, a dark gray hood rested over his shoulders.  
  
“Sorry,” the teen mentally slapped herself. “I guess I should make actual introductions.” She held out her hand with her smirk set back into place, stating, “Hi, Barry, I’m Abigail.”  
  
His whole body froze for a second before his beautiful eyes slowly got wide and a huge grin crept across his face, widening his lips until the teen feared it would break his face in two. He bypassed her hand and nearly threw himself at her, one arm winding itself over her shoulder, the other sliding around her ribs and nearly crushing her to him. Fire erupted through her torso. A shout of pain tore from her lips and he immediately jumped back, seeing her wince.  
  
“Oh, shit, honey, I am so, _so_ sorry,” the man immediately apologized, regret darkening his gaze.  
  
Abigail quickly grabbed his floundering hands, even as the ache thudded through her. “It’s fine,” she assured him. “It’s fine. I’m pretty sure if I let Emma out, she would have had that reaction too.” He smiled genuinely at hearing about his youngest Soul Marked.  
  
“Sweetie, you alright?”  
  
Jolted back to reality, Abigail flushed and turned towards Grace. “I’m fine,” she stated, seeing the redhead hesitating from grabbing the pizza off the counter top. She quickly introduced, “Grace, this is Barry. Barry, this is my foster mother.” The artist stepped forward to shake her hand before quickly rejoining his Mate at her side.  
  
And of course the redhead asked, “How do you know Abigail?”  
  
The blonde cleared her throat, bringing her hand up as if to tug on her curls, the fingers of her other hand tracing over the Mark that was only slightly visible so as not to draw too much attention to it. The redhead’s brows rose as she watched the man gently reach out and take her hand, twisting it to see the tight scrawl printed on her delicate wrist. His caress of the Mark was reverent.  
  
“Alright, then. It’s decided. Join us for dinner, Barry.” 


	42. Meeting Jon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my ever faithful reviewer, **zerousy** , thank you so much for sticking with me (even through the slow times)! To **Writers_Have_Their_Own_Set_of_Rules** and my unnamed guest, thank you for the kudos!
> 
> Now, onto the awkward dinner! We get to find out a little more about the Group in general and some more cute fluffiness.

Stunning blue cast about and caught steel gray, a silent conversation being had even after only minutes of introduction and a previous phone call. A few facial twitches, a curl tug, a smile, and finally a lackadaisical shrug later, the artist turned to the older redhead and nodded. “I’d be delighted, Grace. I actually ordered my own pizza so let me just pay for that.”  
  
“Of course,” the older woman smiled. She slid her gaze towards the seventeen-year-old and smirked who flushed but shrugged, smiling. A few minutes later, the three were bundled back up, each carrying a box of pizza, since Grace had apparently ordered two, and were traipsing back to the Mē residence through the bitter end of February cold that stole their breath and prevented them from making idle chatter, except for the initial “Oh, it’s cold. Let’s hurry now.”  
  
When they finally crossed the threshold of the row home, they all sighed in relief at the warmth that greeted them. The three laid their boxes down on the nearby coffee table to the right of the entrance before removing their coats and hanging them off of an iron rack tacked to the left wall. There was already a jacket hanging there as well as a pair of sensible shoes on the mud-mat below the rack, signaling that the Group would finally get to meet Grace’s husband. As if on cue, the sound of porcelain dishes being pulled from a cupboard alerted the trio to his presence.  
  
A tall Asian man glanced over at the ragtag bunch, an easygoing smile plastered on his tanned face. “Hey honey,” he greeted his wife as she crossed the open living room to the round dining table tucked in the far corner. “And you must be… Abigail, right?”  
  
The blonde nodded her head and shot Barry a grateful smile as he grabbed her arm to hold her steady as she dragged her lone sneaker off her foot, having caught the back of it with her walking cast. “Thank you,” she murmured to her Mate with a warm smile. He just shrugged and followed her as the girl crossed the wooden floor to place the box on top of her foster mother’s. “It’s nice to meet you, Jon,” she greeted him, then hobbling over to him, her hand outstretched.  
  
The man chuckled and shook her hand respectfully. “Such manners. One would think you’re much older than seventeen,” he commented.  
  
The blonde grimaced a bit. “That’s where it kind of gets tricky,” she murmured. “You’re aware of my DID, correct?”  
  
“Of course,” Jon nodded, his face losing some of the humor as he focused on her.  
  
Abigail nodded. “Well, each personality - besides the… original, I guess you could call it - at least for me,” she glanced at Barry who was also watching her, “has a set age. Now, Hope ages as she goes but me, myself, I’m twenty-six-years-old. I have been since the beginning and I believe I will be until the end.” 


	43. Age Is But A Number

“Huh,” Jon muttered. “Alright, then. And the others, if that isn’t rude to ask?”  
  
Abigail shrugged. “I don’t find it rude,” she assured him as her foster father handed out the plates for each of the four spots at the round table. “Hope, obviously, is seventeen at the moment, but she’ll age as she goes, like I said. Emma is our youngest at six. Mercedes is also seventeen, unfortunately. I say that,” she clarified seeing the furrowing of her foster father’s brow, “because she is… rather… promiscuous. That is also why she has been grounded for almost a month. Alistair,” she hurried on, “is our oldest at forty-three, and Clarke is new but she is… twenty-one.” She slowly sat down in the chair in the furthest corner with her right shoulder brushing the wall a bit, Barry sitting on her other side.  
  
“That’s good to know,” Grace said, having made her way back into the kitchen. “Barry,” she caught the man’s attention as she stood in front of the fridge, “we have Pepsi, we have Sprite, we have sweet iced tea, we have regular hot tea we can make, we have orange juice, cranberry juice, 2% milk - oh, no, that’s expired,” the older made a face after sniffing the white beverage, “water, Heineken and Yuengling.”  
  
The man replied, “Cranberry juice would be great, Grace. Thank you.”  
  
“You’re welcome. Jon - you’ve already got your drink. Abigail, what would you like?”  
  
“Sweet tea, please and thank you,” the blonde chirped in reply. Jon sat across from her and opened the top most of the three pizza boxes, finding Barry’s. “Pepperoni, bacon, and what kind of peppers are those?”  
  
“Banana peppers,” her Mate answered, reaching for a few slices. “Don’t knock it until you try it.” He put the thinnest slice on her plate, raising his brows at her wrinkled nose.  
  
“Fine, if only to set a good example for Emma,” she half heartedly grumbled. She shot a look to Grace as a glass of cold teas was placed in front of her. “Thank you.”  
  
Grace finally sat and moved for a few slices of the meat lovers and one of the supreme. She also handed a decent sized slice of each to Abigail. “You sure you’re going to eat all of that?”  
  
The blonde nodded. “With all the running around we did earlier, I’m famished.” She picked up the smallest slice and tentatively took a bite, chewing slowly, wincing at the spice of the peppers in her mouth.  
  
“Well?” Barry’s look was hopeful that she decided to give it more of a shot.  
  
She swallowed and replied, “I could get used to this… Oh, by the way, you never said how old you were.”  
  
“I’m actually twenty-two,” Barry admitted, smiling sheepishly.  
  
Abigail smirked, bumping her shoulder with his, teasing, “Wow, a younger man. Such a scandal! How ever shall I go on?” He snorted at her antics and shook his head. Jon and Grace both chuckled, though it was a bit forced. 


	44. Working At The Zoo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday the 13th everybody! You better be watching you some Jason tonight or else he's gonna rise from Crystal Lake and come find you!
> 
> This chapter goes to **zerousy** , **SuspectItsTheNargles** , **GreenFlame** and my two unnamed guests. Thank you so much for the continued support. If you have any questions, comments, concerns, or just want to tell me you like what I'm doing with the story, drop me a line and I'll get back to you before the new update!

“I actually knew about the age difference for… each personality,” Jon admitted after a moment.  
  
Abigail froze then flushed. “Ah, Grace had mentioned you had a son - well, three, technically,” she muttered. “I had forgotten. Sorry.” The Asian man smiled and waved it away. “Will I get to meet them soon?”  
  
“Maybe. The boys drop by every once in awhile.”  
  
Grace commented, “They have a key so we should probably have one made for you too. We can get it done tomorrow.”  
  
The four continued to eat for a long moment, each couple trading glances with each other and smiling a bit at the slight awkwardness of it all. Grace broke the silence first. “So, what is it you do, Barry?”  
  
The shaved headed man swallowed and carefully wiped at his mouth before replying. “I started working at the Philadelphia Zoo… about ten years ago now... and finally got promoted to a manager position, just this past Fall. It’s a really wonderful place to work and I love being there.”  
  
“Really?” That surprised both of the blonde’s foster parents. He nodded. “That definitely sounds like it must be an interesting place,” Jon added. “Tell us about it, please?”  
  
The man settled back in his chair. “Well, I assist with the animals a lot, helping take care of them and cleaning up after them. Making sure they’re healthy and getting them to the on-site vet when they seem to be doing poorly. Whenever there’s a school coming for a trip, I assists with any training programs for the kids or teens.” He and Abigail shared a grin, both looking forward to the upcoming school trip of hers. “I also occasionally assist with some of the maintenance of facilities and equipment, wherever I’m stationed around the park that particular day - we rotate occasionally, or at least I do. My particular favorite of all the animals is located in the reptile house. We have a boa there named Buddy - of all things but he’s such a sweet snake.” Turning to his Mate, he added, “I’ll show you him, when you get the chance.” He then picked up his cranberry juice.  
  
“That is very interesting,” Grace finally said, her words, her demeanor, actually appearing genuine. “And it’s wonderful you’ve been able to keep the position as long as you have. I suppose that means, you have no plans of leaving anytime soon then?”  
  
Barry shook his head. “No, ma’am,” he replied respectfully. Turning to Abigail, he added, “Plus we have some job openings if you want. It’s seasonal but if you do well enough, it’s likely they’ll keep you, if you’re interested.”  
  
Abigail shrugged with a slight smile. “At the moment, I might still be employed at the Drexel University bookstore. I just have to call my supervisor and let him know what’s been up.” Thinking about how much time had already passed caused her to grimace. “Hopefully I still have a job. If I don’t then I’ll definitely look into it,” she promised. 


	45. Tying Loose Ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an Alistair chapter! Woo! My boy is finally getting to play the front-man! So, that means there will be a bit of a translation in the end notes for you all. Sorry for ahead of time.

Barry didn’t stay much longer that night and had left when his taxi had arrived. Exhaustion had hit The Group like a semi going ninety almost immediately after and they had excused themselves to bed, taking their now clean bedding with them. Being dead on their feet, they postponed the would-be meeting for the next day, falling asleep almost as soon as their head hit the thick pillow, missing the text Barry sent to say he had arrived home safely.  
  
Of course the last dose of medication for the day didn’t hurt either.  
  
Waking gently and fully rested for the first time… since they could remember, all of them - though Abigail especially - hoped that maybe this was a sign of more good things to come. Hobbling downstairs after the wafting scent of breakfast to Grace and Jon at the round dining table with breakfast spread out like a mini buffet was surreal, but not uninviting in the least.  
  
“Good morning,” the redhead greeted the blonde.  
  
“Morn, Grace” the lone male alter replied in his thick brogue, moving forward to the chair Abigail had claimed for them the night previous. The accent surprised the two. Taking a deep breath, he prepared himself to speak more than he had in a long while. “Mah nam is Alistair. Aam th’ only male ay Th’ Group. Plait tae make yer acquaintances.”  
  
Jon asked, “You’re… Scottish?”  
  
“Aye,” the male alter replied with a nod, slowly pulling two pancakes onto his plate as well as something Grace called Scrapple; it looked suspect but the moment it touched his tongue, he was in love because it tasted _fantastic_. After he had cleared half of his plate, he finally made the request all the oldest alters had agreed upon before coming downstairs. “Ah was wonderin’ if ye baith woods drife me tae joseph’s t’day. Ah woods loch tae pack up th’ lae ay uir things, please.”  
  
Grace and Jon exchanged a look. “We actually called your old landlord, Mr. Kobalski. He said he’d be happy to let you clear it out any day within this next week. The only thing is, he already changed the locks.” Alistair nodded. Unlike Abigail, he hunched a bit as he leaned over his plate while she sat straight - as if wearing a corset, and he was left handed to her right dominant. “We can leave after breakfast.”  
  
“‘At soonds guid. Thenk ye, baith ye.”  
  
Filling up his plate with another pancake and slice of Scrapple, Alistair drank his orange juice before hobbling the dishes over to the dishwasher and placing them inside without prompting. He then slowly made his way up the stairs.  
  
_‘Don’t forget to floss today,’_ Abigail reminded him when he made his way into the bathroom. _‘We didn’t last night so we have to make it up for today.’_  
  
Alistair rolled his eyes. “Ye, Mum,” he muttered good naturedly. _‘Damn straight and don’t you forget it,’_ the blonde female called from her chair, cussing only because Emma wasn’t present. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Alistair Translation**  
>  _Morn, Grace_ \- Morning, Grace
> 
>  _Mah nam is Alistair. Aam th’ only male ay Th’ Group. Plait tae make yer acquaintances_ \- My name is Alistair. I'm the only male of The Group. Pleased to make your acquaintances
> 
>  _Ah was wonderin’ if ye baith woods drife me tae joseph’s t’day. Ah woods loch tae pack up th’ lae ay uir things, please_ \- I was wondering if you both would drive me to Joseph's today. I would like to pack up the last of our things, please
> 
>  _‘At soonds guid. Thenk ye, baith ye_ \- That sounds good. Thank you, both of you


	46. End of an Era

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three cheers to the lovely **zerousy** , **Drago_wolf288** , and my four unnamed guests for their review and kudos! Another Alistair chapter for you and the translation at the bottom.

Dressed in some of the new clothes purchased the day before - large dark sweatpants, a loose long sleeved shirt, a black beanie and their heavy winter coat - anticipation welled up within Alistair’s chest as they passed through the neighborhoods they had grown up in and neared Joseph's place. Mr. Kobalski stepped out onto the front porch as the three stepped onto the curb, the wind nipping at the male alter’s nose.  
  
“Morning, _dzieciuch_ ,” the Polish man greeted, his English slow but clear as he leaned on his cane.  
  
The Scotsman nodded in reply.  
  
Kobalski frowned slightly. “C’mon then,” he said after a long moment. “You’ll be wanting the last of your things before I clear it out. Ya?” The alter nodded his head, adjusting the beanie carefully to cover his ears. Heading into the once three story house that had been converted to apartments decades before, the four traipsed up to the first floor and the old man took out a key ring. He selected a freshly made one and slid it into the lock. “Just let me know when you’re leaving, _dzieciuch_.” He went back downstairs.  
  
“Alright,” Jon said, clapping his hands together. “Let’s get started.”  
  
Opening the door, the wave of funk had both the foster parents making a face but having been used to it, Alistair didn’t so much as twitch. Instead he looked around at all of the familiar worn out furniture, trying to decide how he felt being back here, for the last time. Taking a deep breath, Alistair decided to get to the heart of the matter and limped forward towards Hope’s room, hesitating once more in the threshold.  
  
So many times, he and Mercedes had taken undeserved punishment on the thin, destroyed rug. He closed his eyes and then gazed around the slightly messy bedroom.  
  
_‘Don’t forget my coloring books, please,’_ Emma piped up, having returned to her chair during the ride to Joseph’s.  
  
Mercedes piped up, _‘Or my stuff beneath the bed.’_  
  
_‘I would like my art supplies, please,’_ Abigail murmured, _‘but we should go through the whole house, just to make sure we have everything we want. Don’t forget Hope’s things, as well.’_  
  
Clarke remained silent.  
  
Collecting the requested items and finding his own screenplays of all of his favorite musicals, Alistair took the boxes as Grace made them up for her, unflattening them and reinforcing them with to be able to move them down to the back of their vehicle once they were filled. From the bedroom, miscellaneous books, magazines and papers, a couple of toys for both Emma and Mercedes, various art supplies, all the leftover hangers and remaining clothes and bedding were packed away. The bathroom and kitchen were cleared next of their products, a few towels and a few favorite mugs.  
  
Joseph’s room would remain untouched - The Group skirting away from the den of evil as Mercedes like to call it.  
  
“You ready?” Grace asked.  
  
Alistair nodded, smiling.  
  
It was over. They were done with this place. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **_Dzieciuch_** \- (dzee-ay-coo) - loose Polish translation and pronounciation for ‘child’, ‘kid’, ‘baby’, ‘brat’
> 
> So, I actually grew up in a heavily Polish-populated parted of Philadelphia and one of my neighbors actually called me **_Dzieciuch_** for the longest time, though I never bothered to really ask what it meant until I was about twelve, so that's kind of why I slipped that in.
> 
>  **Alistair's Translation**  
>  ** _Guid morn tae ye a’ aw_** \- Good morning to you as well
> 
>  ** _Aam weel enaw_** \- I’m well enough


	47. Binging

Alistair had meant to text one of his Mates – whoever actually answered the phone – when he had gotten home from Joseph’s apartment, because it was not _his_ , not anymore, not really. He had never felt really ‘ _at home_ ’ in a place where he had dealt with unspeakable things on a daily basis. However, Jon had mentioned picking up the new Doctor Strange on DVD. When the blonde had admitted never seeing any of the Marvel movies all the way through, Jon had decided the rest of their day would be spent binging and catching him up. It was an experience since Jon had a 60” high definition flat screen and all he had to compare it to was watching anything on Joseph’s crappy old box TV which had had to use old bunny-eared antenna to try and get any kind of signal.  
  
Talk about seriously obsolete technology!  
  
So, low and behold, because none of the alters had _ever_ seen any of the MCU movies all the way through and that was apparently _very_ unacceptable to Jonathan Mē, who had grown up reading all the original Marvel comics, that was how they spent the rest of their day. Not to mention Jon’s love affair with Star Wars. But that was another movie binge for another day.  
  
Today was the Marvel Cinematic Universe.  
  
Grace had simply rolled her eyes at her husband’s antics but snuggled up next to him on the couch and the three had watched them in release order and Alistair had allowed Emma to be the one to come out as long as she continued to watch the movies. If their foster parents realized the switch of personalities, they made no mention of it until they took a break for lunch and the child-alter had declared that she wanted grilled cheese sandwiches.  
  
Smooth as could be, Grace had nodded, saying, “Alright, we can have grilled cheese, but first, young lady, you need to go wash your hands and tell me your name again.”  
  
“I’m Emma!” the child grinned happily, bouncing happily over to the kitchen sink as well as she could with a full legged cast. “I’m six! But Mercy says I’ll be seven soon!”  
  
Jon, having become used to this with Alex, Matt, and Jarod had smiled despite himself. “Well then,” he promised, “when you turn seven we can have a birthday party for you.”  
  
Emma’s gray-green eyes widened dramatically. “Really?” she asked quietly, jaw dropped. Grace tapped her beneath the chin to close her gaping jaw and the child alter flushed but flicked her gaze between her new parents. Jon nodded; confirming it aloud and the girl had squealed and bounced on her toes, throwing herself at her new foster mother, hugging the woman enthusiastically. “Hope hasn’t gotten a birthday party in _forever_!” With the promise of better things to come, Emma had taken extra care to be a perfectly good girl and not get sandwich crumbs everywhere and to grab her milk cup with both hands. 


	48. Crazy, Random, Happenstance, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout outs this update go to **Writers_Have_Their_Own_Set_of_Rules** , **zerousy** , **sipes24** , and two unnamed guests for their reviews and kudos! And since we're nearing Chapter 50, and a lot of you have kept giving me your unfailing support, I gift you with three chapters this update!

They were getting restless. Or, some of them were getting even more restless than before. It had been two days, five hours, and twenty-one minutes – _not that any of them were counting or anything_ – since Abigail’s last text. Barry preached for patience, that she was probably doing something important and if they hadn’t heard from her by the evening they would check up on her.  
  
Luke was currently in the light and he was going through their home, checking to see what was needed and marking off the little boxes on the pre-printed grocery list. **_Bacon_**. Check. **_Milk. Butter. Eggs._** Check, check, and check. **_Fruits and vegetables._** He grimaced but made a few checks in that category as well for Felicia and Rakel. The fucking vegetarians. He shuddered. Give him red meat any day, please. Going through the cabinets, he found a few different notes tucked away with everyone’s specific selection of foods and things and adjusted the list accordingly, making sure to scribble in the margin which snack brands, which specific canned goods, and beverages to also buy. Once he was finally done with the kitchen, he headed to the bathroom and made sure their supplies of toothpaste, deodorants, body washes, and more were either stocked or placed on the list as was needed. Going over the list one more time, he made his way to the office for their keys and wallet and to check if Samuel left a note to give him a budget limit this time around or if he was in the clear to spend as needed.  
  
He was in the clear since the budget note was always taped to the computer screen. Unless someone had chucked it away. He shrugged. He didn’t see it so he was going to do what needed to be done to make their pantry full. Making sure he had the forty in cash he would need to take a cab back from the store, he headed out for the bus. 

* * *

Living with Grace and Jon Mē was a culture shock. They never raised their voices, or at least, they hadn’t done so in the last two and a half days The Group had been living with them. They asked their opinion about what they wanted to eat. They actually sat down together to share a meal and talked about their day. They included them in everything without making them feel like they were obligated. And now, they were all out grocery shopping.  
  
Abigail had been sent off for some canned goods and turned only to immediately bump into someone. “Omph,” she groaned, her ribs protesting. Blinking, she immediately began to apologize. “Oh, I’m so—” She cut herself off, immediately recognizing the tapered jaw, though it was a bit more covered in stubble this time around. The thin Cupid’s bow was set into an easy going grin, the wide nose dotted with light freckles flaring slightly. The light blue eyes twinkled from under long lashes. She grinned, “It’s you.” 


	49. Crazy, Random, Happenstance, Part 2

“It’s you.”  
  
Luke blinked down at the pretty young woman with unruly strawberry blond curls bouncing about her face he had accidently bumped into. _It was him? What was him?_ Unless… He cocked his head and regarded her. There was only one way to find out. “Hi, I’m Luke.” The dazzling smile she gave him in return lit up the store. She juggled the cans into the crook of her left arm and immediately slipped her right hand into his own while her hoodie sleeves decided to get in the way, making him snort.  
  
She flushed. “Sorry,” she muttered, cheeks going a lovely pink color. “I’m Abigail.”  
  
Luke froze. “Abigail?” he demanded, the Mark on his left bicep tingling pleasantly, his blue eyes widening as he stared down into her gray ones.  
  
She flushed darker. “Yeah,” she nodded. “I figured since I’ve texted Barry and Mary,” here they both chuckled, “I figured they would tell… well… all of you.”  
  
The male alter snorted. “Oh, they definitely did,” he assured her. “Barry poked back inside just long enough to tell us all you had finally texted us. He was super excited about that.”  
  
Abigail flushed. “Yeah… I’m sorry about making you guys wait so long. I – well my new foster aunt – only found the note the day I was being checked out of the hospital. And I texted Mary as soon as I was gifted my phone by my foster mother.” She grimaced, gray eye flicking down slightly and going unfocused. “They’ve been really generous.” She bit her lip. “It’s… overwhelming to say the least but they haven’t freaked at the personality shifts… yet. Apparently they’ve fostered someone like us before but I have yet to meet them.” Luke glanced down right at the moment she shoved her curls back from her face and her left sleeve slid back a bit, revealing the bandage about her wrist. She saw his gaze and flushed, muttering in shame, “Hope… Hope was having a hard time.” His light blue gaze flicked upwards and he regarded her carefully. She swallowed at the intensity.  
  
“All five of you?” he asked.  
  
“Six,” she corrected. “Hope… We forced her to sleep.” Understanding darkened his eyes. “I should also mention Mercedes is also grounded, still.” He raised a brow at that. “It’s a long story. But I'm surprised you don't know about Clarke.”  
  
Luke shrugged. “It's because she’s new. Like brand new. What happened?”  
  
“Stress, lots of stress,” she muttered evasively, grimacing slightly. “I’m just happy about this crazy, random happenstance…” At his bark of laughter, she shrugged, adding, “Who’d have thought we’d run into each other at the grocery store?”  
  
He shrugged. “It happens in the movies, why not us?” he muttered flippantly. “So, this is kinda really forward, but when are you turning eighteen?”  
  
“Hope’s turning eighteen on April the fifth,” she replied.  
  
He smirked. “Good. We don’t have to wait too long for you to be legal, then.” The implication of his words made her blush. 


	50. Crazy, Random, Happenstance, Part 3 (The Conclusion)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER 50! Yea!

_‘He wants to bone you,’_ Mercedes sang from her seat, cackling. _‘He wants to own you. He wants to kiss you. He wants to lick you. He wants to suck you. He wants to—’_  
  
_‘SHUT UP RIGHT THERE!’_  
  
Alistair uncharacteristically got up and smacked the lascivious alter on the back of the head. Emma snickered at the other female’s misfortune.  
  
In the outside world however, Luke suddenly rubbed the back of his head, looking very, very chagrined with himself. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “That came out worse than I meant it to. It’s just… well… Kevin turned thirty-two at the beginning of the month and with you not quite legal, it’s not exactly like we can really spend too much time together without supervision because someone might yell ‘statutory’.”  
  
Abigail grimaced. “I get it,” she muttered. Movement from the corner of her eye had her turn her head to see who was joining them in their lonely aisle. It was her foster parents and they were talking quietly amongst themselves as they pushed the cart forward. “Oh, so I should also probably mention that Barry met my foster parents a couple of days ago,” she added quickly.  
  
Luke nodded. “He mentioned that,” he admitted. “Said you guys accidently met at Pizza Dads and got invited back to your place.” She flushed with a nod.  
  
Jon noticed them first. “Barry, what a surprise to find you here.” He held out a hand in greeting.  
  
Luke grimaced. “I’m… actually Luke, sir.” He still shook the older man’s hand.  
  
The Asian man blinked then nodded, his arm dropping to his side now. “My apologies.” He turned to his foster daughter. “Did you get the gravy?”  
  
Abigail gestured with her one free hand to the cans nestled precariously within the crook of her arm. “Err, yeah, sorry about that,” she apologized. “I got caught up talking to Luke.” She turned back to the younger man, announcing, “Luke, my foster parents. Grace, Jon, this is Luke.” The man now shook her foster mother’s hand.  
  
“Crazy, random, happenstance, huh?” Luke joked. “Guess, things in movies can happen in real life every once in awhile.”  
  
Grace slowly smiled. “Apparently,” she agreed and glanced down at the list in her hand before looking back up and between her foster daughter and the girl’s Mate.  
  
Abigail grimaced. “That’s my cue to help them with the groceries some more,” she told him.  
  
Luke nodded and gestured to his own cart. “S’fine, doll,” he shrugged. “We have your number so I’ll text you later tonight if you’re good with that?” She nodded and grinned when he picked up her left hand and gently kissed her knuckles, pausing as ‘ _ **Patricia**_ ’ peaked out at him from under her sleeve. He flinched. She watched him push his cart further down the aisle and turn away, his blue eyes glancing back and his smile curling the corner of his mouth.  
  
Jon snorted. “Crazy random happenstance indeed,” he chuckled, reaching out, patting the girl’s shoulder. 


	51. The Promised Text

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To **XCrimsonAvianX** , thank you for your wonderful review! To **Fox_Scriber** , **Klarion8** , **BonBon_Kitten** and my 7 unnamed guests, thank you for your kudos! Thank you all for your continued support!

True to his word, Luke texted Abigail while she was getting ready for her first day back to school after the last three days in the Mē household. The blonde heard the rattle of her phone as it skittered slightly across her bedside table’s surface.  
  
**_Hey re,ember me? ~Luke_**  
  
Abigail sat on her bed and clicked out a response. **_You’re hard to forget, Mr. Crazy Random Happenstance. ~A_**  
  
It took him a second before his comeback came through. **_Goood ~Luke_** And then another text. **_Get ur shoppinh done? ~Luke_**  
  
**_More or less. You? ~A_**  
  
**_Of course ;) ~Luke_** She waited to see if he would add anything and wasn’t disappointed. **_So. Died I make a good impression on ur parents? ~Luke_**  
  
**_And on u? ~Luke_**  
  
Abigail flushed, remembering the knowing smiles Jon had flashed her and his wife elbowing him in the ribs, but smirking all the same. **_Yeah, definitely. Actually, they kept teasing me, so thanks for that. ~A_**  
  
She imagined him throwing his head back and laughing, not at her but at the situation. Of his pretty blue eyes twinkling like they had earlier today. Of his mouth. **_U can take it out on me nest time anyway u please ~Luke_** The seventeen-year-old flushed at the coy words and felt an unfamiliar flutter in her belly. **_I meant next time ~Luke_**  
  
_‘He wants to bone you,’_ Mercedes began to sing once more from her seat, cackling. _‘He wants to own you. He wants to—’_  
  
Abigail grimaced and snapped inwardly, _‘Finish that and I ground you further. Emma doesn’t need to hear that kind of nasty talk’_  
  
_‘Control freak.’_  
  
_‘I am not,’_ Abigail argued. _‘I’m just trying to make sure we all don’t get into trouble because of one mistake by one of us.’_  
  
_‘Uh huh, sure… You’re still a bossy bitch.’_  
  
_‘Swear jar!’_ Emma piped up from her seat where she was coloring. Clarke, Mercedes, and Abigail all sighed and rolled their eyes while the blonde alter reached for their wallet and pulled out a single dollar, stuffing it into the glass jar on their bedside table.  
  
**u there? ~Luke **  
****   
The blond quickly typed out, **_Yeah, getting ready for tomorrow. I’m finally going back to school. ~A_** She added, **_I’m looking forward to pseudo stalking you at work on Friday ;) ~A_** She put the phone down and hobbled back over to her closet. It would be Wednesday tomorrow and the weather was finally starting to get warmer, but not by much. They called for a high of 65⁰ but that meant that it was more than likely going to be low to mid 50’s at the highest; she’d be keeping her long sleeves and her hoodie, thank you.  
  
Her phone buzzed. **_Yeah. We’re having a drawing 2 c whoa accidently going 2 b at work and get 2 spend time with u despite the regular rotation. ~Luke_**  
  
**_Who is actually going to be at work ~Luke_**  
  
Mercedes sniggered, _‘Poor boy can’t type for shit.’_  
  
_‘Swear jar, Mercy!’_


	52. Stealthy Takeover

Luke was sitting on the ground in the propped open doorway connecting the outside world and the Philadelphia Zoo’s service tunnel that linked his underground home and the veterinarian station for the big cats. He kinda wished he could at least sit on the bench in the locker bays but even if he kept the door propped wide open, the signal on his phone would drop to _maybe_ one bar over there.  
  
_If_ he was lucky.  
  
So here he was, stuck sitting on the hard ground and propped up against the open entrance because he hadn’t brought a folding chair with him and was shivering against the cool late February air while he texted one of his Mates with one hand and allowed the other to play with the dirt coating the old stone beneath him. He chuckled, wondering idly how much of an aneurism Dennis would have if he knew what he was doing with their body.  
  
Trying to focus on the phone conversation, he was distracted when he heard a familiar gripe and turned one eye inward. _‘Barry, according to the schedule you set up, it should be my turn now,’_ Samuel pointed out from his seat.  
  
Before the normal front runner of the group could reply, Luke replied, _‘Hold your horses, Sammy boy. I’m actually talking to our sweet doll right now.’_  
  
_‘Talking t’her?’_ B.T. demanded from his chair. _‘Thought you were going shopping. Where you at?’_  
  
_‘I’m home now_,’ Luke stressed. _‘I’m just texting her.’_ Mary did a little victory dance in her seat. Ignoring her, he turned his full attention to the phone conversation and grimaced, quickly correcting his last text to what he had meant. **_Who is actually going to be at work ~Luke_** God, he needed a typing class. But that was usually for computer keyboards. Did they even have typing classes for phones?  
  
**_Well, I hope this doesn’t cause a fight between any of you guys. It’s more than likely going to be Mercedes since her grounding is FINALLY up on Friday so you might want to put someone who’s good with dealing with slightly impulsive, sometimes less than proper behaviour at the front. ~A_**  
  
**_What u mean about less than proper ~Luke_**  
  
It took a long minute before his phone pinged. **_Mercedes is kinda slutty ~A_**  
  
Turning inward once more, Luke relayed this information to Barry and several alters groaned. Samuel took that moment of distraction to shove his way into the center chair.  
  
Shaking the slight disorientation away, he blinked twice and took stock of Kevin’s body. Their ass had gone numb from sitting on the hard ground, meaning his legs would be cramped when he finally got up. He was both warm and cold from the cool almost-March air from the open door. And his hand was covered in dirt.  
  
_‘At least I’m not Dennis,’_ Samuel chuckled quietly to himself, wiping his hand down Luke’s jeans before he finally looked down at the phone resting on his lap. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, first, sorry about Luke's rather cringe-worthy texts but he's more of a flirty romantic than a spelling/grammar guy. And second, next set of chapters we're going to see a rather familiar face from the movie who hasn't yet shown up here. Can you guess who it's going to be?
> 
> Anyway, have a good weekend!


	53. Sam I Am

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo! I got a lotta love this last update! Yea! I'm really reveling in it!
> 
> Shout out for this update goes to: **Writers_Have_Their_Own_Set_of_Rules** , my ever faithful **zerousy** , and the kudos from **Beccaroni** and my 6 unnamed guests! Thank you so much for your continued support and love! This story probably would have died long before this if it had gone without all of you! Thank you!

Samuel read through the texts to catch up on the conversation and then, readjusting his numb backside from sitting on the ground, typed out: **_The System has been told so we’ll figure out by the time we get to see you on Friday. I’m Samuel, by the way. I stole the light so I’d get the chance to talk to you._** Waiting for his Mate’s reply, he checked his emails and saw the two day old message that Dr. Fletcher had to cancel some of her appointments due to having come down with the flu but the next appointment for The System, which would be for Saturday, should still be on. He wondered when their appointment was and hoped he would get to finally meet one or more of them on Friday.  
  
In the back of his head, Samuel heard, _‘Dude! What the fuck?! You can’t do that!’_  
  
Barry, ever the voice of reason, replied, _‘It_ is _his turn, Luke. You’ll just have to be patient.’_  
  
Samuel smirked. Their resident fashion artist turned pseudo-leader was always trying to be fair. It usually worked out for them because his quiet strength was something people usually looked for and followed …mostly without question.  
  
**_Well, it’s nice to meet you, Samuel. I’m Abigail, currently. And just FYI, we call ourselves The Group._**  
  
**_Oh, did you hear about Friday yet? ~A_**  
  
**_Yes, I did. I’m hoping I get to meet you but not sure yet ~S_**  
  
**_Or Mercedes ~S_**  
  
**_What did she do to get grounded? Something promiscuous since you said she’s kind of slutty? ~S_**  
  
The reply took a bit longer this time and he would wonder how many times she backspaced to word it better. **_Unfortunately, yes, or she tried to, at least. I’ll explain it better when face to face. ~A_** It was rather vague but at least maybe he would get the story. If not on Friday, maybe at a later date.  
  
Glancing inwardly, he roved his gaze over The System and saw mostly everyone talking excitedly amongst themselves over their Mates and how things might play out on Friday. On a random chalkboard, Barry had written the names of the alters who could successfully handle promiscuity and smirked, seeing his name on the rather short list. Dennis was scowling at it from his chair as _his_ name was not included. That was his own fault, though. Seeing him made Samuel look around for the rest of the Horde. Hedwig was fidgeting in his chair while Patricia was missing entirely.  
  
A vibration within his physical hand brought him back to the outside world.  
  
**_I hate to do this but we have school in the morning so I’m going to say goodnight, Samuel ~A_**  
  
Checking the time on his phone, the male alter was surprised to see it was 9:51PM. Regretfully, he typed back a reply, **_Of course, Abigail. Text one of us tomorrow? Let us know how it was?_**  
  
**_As you wish :D ~A_**  
  
**_Good night~A_**  
  
**_Night ~S_**


	54. A Little to the Right

Abigail had quickly ended the conversation after that and had forced herself to go to sleep. Luckily for her, she hadn’t needed to change schools but she had needed to Google a new route to get to school and it involved walking ten minutes to the bus stop and another fifteen or twenty when she got to the closest bus stop to her school. Luckily, her school was within the area of the route Jon took to work so, at least for the foreseeable future, she had a ride to school. Or at least the next few weeks while her leg remained casted up.  
  
Thank god he worked at the Franklin Institute.  
  
“You ready to head out, Hope?” Jon asked the strawberry blonde as she hobbled over to the kitchen sink, placing her cereal bowl down and filling it with water to rinse out before finding a spot for it and her spoon in the dishwasher.  
  
“Yeah, I just need to grab my bag,” she called over her shoulder. She would use her spare toothbrush when she got to school. Grace came down the stairs and scooped up the pack for the teen. “Thank you,” she smiled tiredly up at the woman.  
  
Grace smiled in return. “Oh, don’t forget,” she reminded both her husband and new daughter, “you have to give this to the front office.” She handed a small packet of filled out papers. Grace had taken care of letting them know she and Jon were taking over guardianship of Hope during their time off and had been given a whole mess of paperwork to fill out for her trouble.  
  
_‘Better that than going back to him,’_ Mercedes murmured quietly from her chair.  
  
Emma huffed. _‘I don’t want to go to school! It’s boring and dumb.’_  
  
_‘We have to go,’_ Abigail thought as she hobbled out to the car outside the house. Jon had opened the passenger door for her and she thanked him, sliding into the seat gratefully. _‘We need to get a good education for Hope.’_  
  
The littlest one pointed out, _‘How can we do it for Hope if she’s sleeping?’_  
  
Abigail sighed. _‘It’s for us too, so we can get a good job after school and be able to buy food and have a nice house and just have a good life.’_ Emma pouted and slumped in her chair, turning away from the older alter. Watching the world pass by while she made small talk with her foster father, the blonde felt more at ease than she had… in a long time, despite being in the company of a man. Pulling up to the front of the school, she assured Jon she had her bus pass and knew the route to take to get home. She closed the door behind her and turned.  
  
Looking around, things were almost exactly the same as they had been a week ago, except, everything was different now, too. _‘Shifted a wee tae th’ reit, lass,’_ Alistair murmured. Abigail hummed, agreeing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Alistair Translation**  
>  _‘Shifted a wee tae th’ reit, lass,’_ \- Shifted a bit to the right, girl
> 
> Basically, what he’s trying to say is like dealing with the after effects of a minor earthquake. The world trembles just enough for everything to move maybe an inch or so from where they’d been and it all looks the same… but it’s not… not quite…. Sorry if that confuses you even more. It’s the best I can come up with.


	55. A Different Kind of Friendship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so, slightly longer than normal author’s note but seriously, you have no idea how happy I was writing this chapter. Okay, slight deviation because by now, I’m pretty sure all of you have seen the alternate ending of **Split** where Dennis is sitting on top of a building gazing down at a school. Well, guess what? I actually figured out which school it is! And if you have no idea what I’m talking about, go remedy that.
> 
> Julia Reynolds Masterman Laboratory and Demonstration School
> 
> The only reason I know this is because I went to Philadelphia High School for Girls for my first half of my high school career (which may or may not have been a few years ago at this point) and JRM is _technically_ a sister school. Kind of… I will admit to never having seen anything but the outside of the building and in passing because I never went to any away games or anything so I’m only guestimating at the inside set-up so expect the descriptions to be vague-ish.
> 
> Anyway, now that my ranting is over, on to my shout outs:
> 
> Thank you for the kudos from **Bisexuwhale** and three unnamed guests! Thank you so much for the continued support!

* * *

Julia Reynolds Masterman was a magnet school in Spring Garden, Philadelphia. Abigail, Mercedes, Emma, Alistair – and when Hope was awake – called it Hell. Clarke was undecided. Though, to be fair, it still wasn’t anywhere near as bad as Joseph’s had been. They all had preferred to be here and stayed late just to avoid going home. Not that Joseph cared. He probably would have favored her to not come back.  
  
Ever.  
  
Old Mrs. Baron, the wrinkly little woman who had been one of the secretaries for several decades now, was exceptionally helpful and kind when Abigail came in with the paperwork needed to upgrade her file. All the secretary needed in return was to have the teen have a sheet filled out by each teacher stating they understood to release the casted girl early to avoid the foot traffic as everyone changed classes. Luckily, her ribs were pretty much completely healed.  
  
With the new paper in hand, Abigail hobbled her way to her locker, which, mercifully was on the same floor. She bowed her head, allowing her curls – a bit tamer today since she had brushed them thoroughly; twice – to frame her face and block out the peering stares. It did nothing for the whispers, though. She blessedly made it without anyone coming up to her to falsely offer their condolences before striking for the information they wanted. Teenagers were vipers and with the situation Joseph had created, Abigail had been made into the freshest prey.  
  
Her phone vibrated. **_Wishing you all well today, darling. Call us if you need anything ~With love from all of us_**  
  
With a joyous grin, Abigail hit ‘reply’. **_Thank you all so much! **< 3** ~A_** She slid her phone into her back pocket and pulled the book she needed for her Statistics class and her copy of **The Handmaid’s Tale** for her literature class. Movement from the corner of her eye caught her gaze.  
  
“Hey.”  
  
Abigail turned and saw a familiar face. “Casey,” she greeted in return. The brunet was one of a few people most of The Group actually liked to speak with. They had an inkling, from seeing the familiar shadows in her rich brown gaze, that they were kindred spirits. However, there was not any concrete confirmation on that. It was an unspoken rule between them. _Don’t ask. Don’t tell._ Just be a supporting shoulder when the other needed it. Hope was the weaker of the two. Abigail was almost as strong and usually didn’t need her. Mercedes and Casey _did not_ get along. Casey seemed to get along best with Alistair’s quiet support. Emma was  not allowed to make an appearance.  
  
They weren’t sure if Casey could really understand.  
  
The blonde closed her locker after making sure she had everything, wincing at the weight of the text books, notebooks, and other miscellaneous items she needed for her classes. The girls didn’t smile at each other but Abigail bumped Casey’s shoulder and they navigated the crowded halls. 


	56. Appreciation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note of possible trigger warnings: implied self-harm and abuse.

“So… Joseph finally got caught?” Casey asked quietly as they took their normal seats in the back of their first class, eyeing their classmates to make sure their conversation wasn’t being eavesdropped on.  
  
Abigail grimaced. “ _That_ topic’s really heavy,” she warned the brunette who only shrugged. Their teacher walked in and they settled in to log onto their computers to read then perform the required calculations for the remainder of their class period. As everyone settled their headphones on top of their skulls, both girls kept an ear free and continued their conversation. “I… reached a _really_ bad… low…” She pulled up one of her sleeves to show a hint of the brand new scar. “Chickened out, though. Called an ambulance. Joseph caught me… and they… caught him.” They shared a knowing look, the shadows darkening in both their eyes.  
  
“And you got a new family?”  
  
Abigail smiled. “They’re so… good…” she muttered. “It’s weird. It’s wonderful… but weird.” She shot the brunet a look but the girl was busy looking at her screen. “I keep expecting something to turn sour but… I think I might actually have a good few months before I’m eighteen.” The girls settled for a moment before the strawberry blond added, “Anything interesting happen while I was gone?”  
  
Casey shook her head. “Not really. I got detention,” she replied, smirking. “Again.”  
  
The rest of the day, Abigail managed to get through mostly unscathed with only a few questions asked by the boldest teenagers, some who thinly veiled their nosiness and gossip-digging with faux concern. Luckily, the teachers had occasionally come to her aide and kept everyone busy enough with classwork and upcoming projects while the semi-introverted brunet used her brief revelations of sardonic humor and giving off dark scowls.  
  
Abigail had never appreciated her more.  
  
It was also awesome to be able to leave class a few minutes early to avoid the crush of bodies struggling to get to their next class.  
  
Finally, the last two classes of the day, one of which Abigail would be very obviously excused from: Phys. Ed and last but certainly not least – Art Major. With the full leg cast, the blonde sat at the side and got started on some of her homework, snickering every once and again at Casey’s ineptitude for organized sports. The brunet would shoot her filthy looks and then shake her head with a slight smile.  
  
She understood it was all in good fun.  
  
When the rest of the class was sent to the showers, the blonde told her teacher she would head to her next class. This last class of the day was her absolute favorite, hands down, hands up, sideways, diagonal, whichever. She loved art – the painting, the sketching, the creating of something beautiful and so uniquely her own. She could express herself freely and get completely lost in it, imagining a better, safer world.  
  
It was always and would continue to be her most favorite part of her school day. 


	57. Light Up The World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know this update is a couple of days early but this year I actually have Thanksgiving plans with my family tomorrow that continue through Friday and Saturday. Hence why the early update for all my lovely readers.
> 
> Shout outs for this update go out to: **Writers_Have_Their_Own_Set_of_Rules** for the wonderful review, and **SkyzDaLumet** and my 4 unnamed guests for the kudos! Thank you so much!

Mr. Facellini, one of Abigail’s favorite teachers in all the years she’d been going to school, was hauling a huge bag of what appeared to be filled with gray mud. He looked up when he heard her enter his empty classroom. “Good afternoon, Ms. Adler,” he greeted her, smiling brightly, his mismatched eyes shining. “You have no idea how glad I am to see your eager face light up my gloomy classroom once more.” The girl smiled lightly back.  
  
“It’s good to be back,” she agreed. “What project do you have us finishing up our year with?”  
  
He looked down at the container. “Ah, this…” he shrugged, winking. Her brows furrowed at his strange behavior; he’d never done _that_ before and she wasn’t exactly sure how she felt about it. “You’re about to get your hands dirty. Remember I told you last semester I was going to light up everyone’s life?” She remembered and while she mostly enjoyed his cheesy one-liners; Casey did not. “So, not only are you going to get grubby molding this clay into a base, but you’re going to do it so that you can in fact…” he turned from her and reached for another case sitting precariously upon his desk chair and presented her with what looked like odds and ends, “combine the base to make yourself homemade lamps.”  
  
Abigail nodded, replying. “Interesting. What are we going to do for the lamp shades?”  
  
He grinned even wider before turning as more of his students came wandering into the room. “Ah, please, find a seat, ladies and gentlemen…” He turned back to her. “I’ll explain that once everyone’s here.”  
  
The strawberry-blonde went to her preferred chair – not quite center, front but still close to where Mr. Facellini liked to lounge occasionally during class time. Casey came in as one of the last few as the bell rang. She always showered last to keep her scars from being on display to the rest of the girls in the locker room, if she did at all. It was just one more tactic they both used to keep people at arms’ length. Their teacher had just begun to explain ‘ **Project: Light Up The World** ‘ and shot a glare at the brunet who scowled right back at him.  
  
“As I was saying,” the handsome redhead continued, “once your lamp bases are finished and you have the ability to lay the cord out the bottom, we will then go on a trip to a craft store and so that we can make a stained glass shade. However, right now, I just want you to focus on creating the base. I want it to be something we can display in the final show. No drug paraphernalia,” he shot a look to the three stoner kids off to his left, “nothing sexualized,” he scowled at the guffawing of a couple of the boys, most of whom were jocks, “but you can do something with rock and roll. Now, go get to work.” 


	58. Creativity At Its Finest

Mr. Facellini was kind enough to bring Abigail a nice little heap of sloppy, wet clay. “Have fun getting dirty, Ms. Adler,” he grinned. “I expect great things from you.” From the very first project he had dispensed – drawing still life with charcoal – back in September, she had impressed him and continued to do so, setting his standard for her higher and higher with each new assignment.  
  
Casey watched him walk away with narrowed chocolate colored eyes. “If you’re not careful,” she hissed acidly, slowly getting up to get her own hunk of clay, “he’s going to ask you to stay late one day and offer you _extra credit_.”  
  
“Um… I think you’re looking too much into it,” Abigail played it off, though that was secretly what she feared with his sudden switch in behavior. “He’s friendly with everyone.” She spotted him conversing with the blonde beauty queen across the classroom, her beautiful dark skinned friend laughing along with them. “Look at Claire and Marcia. I don’t think he wants to bone them.” She wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince Casey or herself more.  
  
_‘Though, under different circumstances, I_ wouldn’t _be opposed to it,’_ Mercedes purred, smirking. _‘But I won’t be accused of being unfaithful to our Mates.’_  
  
Abigail refused to be baited. Instead, she shrugged at Casey and turned towards her project, pondering what she should create. Her mind drifted to her Mates and she smiled to herself, feeling her cheeks heat slightly. She couldn’t wait to text them. Then a thought came to her and she felt her grin get even wider and brighter.  
  
That would be so perfect!  
  
Immediately, she ripped off a large chunk of clay and began to mold it.  
  
So focused on building the image in her mind and transferring it into reality, Abigail only responded to Casey’s pokes and proddings for conversation and did not notice the passing time until the bell rang shrilly overhead, making her jump nearly a foot in the air. Around her, the students were already packing up their materials and putting things away.  
  
“Oh, before y’all leave,” Mr. Facellini called out before anyone could cross the threshold and escape to freedom, “to my senior class students, don’t forget about the class trip to the zoo this Friday! That is in two days!”  
  
Abigail smirked very widely.  
  
She _hadn’t_ forgotten about it.  
  
Abigail hoped it was going to be… if not warm, at least clear skies. Then looked down at her leg. That might be a problem and she grimaced. It had been years since she had gone to the zoo – a school trip the previous time in the fifth grade if she wasn’t mistaken – and she had been really looking forward to it. She hoped she would still be allowed to go. She would ask whichever of her Mates she talked to tonight if there was a way to make sure because she did not want to miss this for the world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, everyone! Next week's update should be right on schedule for the 1st of December. But before you all go, if you celebrate, I hope you have a happy Thanksgiving tomorrow and don't make yourself sick from gorging on good food as you listen to your crazy/wonderful families regale you with fantastical stories of what's been going on in their lives while you've been apart. If you don't celebrate, then I hope you have a wonderful weekend and don't kill anybody on Black Friday with all the insane sales going on!


	59. Warning Bells

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo hoo!!! We made it to 200 comments!!! And nearly 3000 hits! You guys are so amazing. Thank you so much!!!
> 
> Shout outs for this update go to: **zerousy** for the reviews, and to **Bangtangirl_94** , **Megan_Leigh_4601** and my three unnamed guests for their kudos.

“You were really absorbed into this project. What’re you making? I couldn’t exactly tell,” Casey asked, waiting for Abigail to finish wrapping her own work up in plastic to prevent the moisture from escaping the clay and beginning to harden prematurely. She did not trust the art teacher and would not leave her friend to the proverbial wolves if she could help it. Mr. Facellini came out of the closet built into the back of the room only to pause, his eyes landing on the brunet who was standing protectively near the blonde. She scowled at his mismatched gazed and the blonde glanced back to see a similar look on their teacher’s face directed at her friend.  
  
What had happened while she’d been gone?  
  
They might not have really liked each other before but it had never been _this_ bad.  
  
Trying to diffuse the tension, Abigail spoke loudly enough for both of them to hear, “It’s still a rough idea but… I’m designing the different facets of my personality.” She shrugged, tucking away the tightly bundled up figurine that would eventually become Mercedes into the shelving cubby she had claimed for herself. Some of her sketches and smaller artistic pieces were still shoved inside. She would need to clean it out soon. Maybe Grace and Jon would let her decorate The Group’s room with them.  
  
Casey’s nose wrinkled. “I guess that works,” she muttered, in response to Abigail’s words.  
  
Mr. Facellini glowered at his darker haired student before shooting the blonde a smile. “I think that’s a brilliant and very insightful idea. Have you thought of what your shade would be then?”  
  
“My name,”Abigail fibbed with another shrug as she picked up her bag and slid it onto her back. Not many people knew of her condition and it was better that way. They wouldn’t pity her - them. “‘Hope’ in capital letters will be simple and easy to carve out of glass and I can just fill in the rest of the shades with odd pieces of my favorite colors.”  
  
The handsome redhead nodded once more, pleased by her creativity. “And you, Ms. Cook? Have you decided on a base yet or have you done nothing more than play with the clay?” The brunet shot him a dark glare and turned her back, stomping out of the room without a backwards glance. Abigail frowned after her but understood her need to retreat. She turned back around to give her excuses to her teacher to find he had gotten closer. The blonde stiffened, instantly taking a step back.  
  
“I should go,” she said. “My boyfriend is expecting a call.”  
  
Not exactly a lie though their relationship was hardly enough to be more than friendly acquaintances. But it could get there, with time and effort.  
  
“Boyfriend?” the redhead frowned.  
  
Abigail shrugged a third time, sidling back another step. “My Mate, actually,” she clarified, smiling blithely.  
  
“You should get going then, Ms. Adler. He’ll be waiting for it.”  
  
Abigail fled as fast as she could. 


	60. The Fine Line of Selfishness

After that… _strange…_ happening with the art teacher, Abigail hobbled towards the front office and handed in the sheet of paper to Old Mrs. Baron before heading back to her locker to pick up her things. Casey had gotten detention again, this time for cursing out their MUSH (Modern U.S. History) assistant teacher - the regular teacher was at an appointment - after the teen had insisted the class reading had been wrong only to be told to shut her trap. The blonde understood her friend’s reasoning for doing this but wished there was some other way for her to cry out for help.  
  
_‘Like we did so much better,’_ Abigail thought grimly to herself. After getting all the necessary books, she grabbed a change of clothes from a small plastic box on the top shelf and closed her locker. Glancing about the mostly empty hall, she headed towards the nearest female bathroom and into the largest stall. Carefully setting everything down, Abigail closed her eyes and sank into her inner theater. 

* * *

“Is it my turn?” Emma asked as Abigail stepped off the 90’s school projector.  
  
Mercedes snorted. “Not when we’re out and about, id-jit,” she sniped. “It’s the big man’s turn since he… for _some_ reason… actually _likes…_ doing homework.” Disdain dripped from the golden skinned teen’s words. “Unless you’re letting Clarke out again. She hasn’t been out and about for almost a week.”  
  
“I would,” Clarke admitted.  
  
Alistair sighed quietly. He had never really begrudged not getting the ability to project himself as much for his own pursuits as the rest of his girls over the years except when he was rendered necessary. He could be patient when needed because he understood the girls needed to blow off their own steam. As long as he got the ability to step on the projector every once and awhile to be able to do his own thing, he could sit back and wait.  
  
And he had – waited that is.  
  
However, the time _between_ his projections (and Mercedes’ and Emma’s and even Hope’s) had been steadily increasing in length, Abigail taking center stage more and more over the last few months. Now that he was being allowed to take control, however, he was being reminded that their newest member had only been allowed her first and only presented herself once over four days ago. However, when was he likely to be given the chance to take control of their shared body again? And that in turn brought out the vague thought that he was still luckier to only share Hope with the six of them instead of their Mates who were numbered twenty-three. Twenty-four, he recalled their newest Mark on their abdomen.  
  
Still, focusing on the decision at hand, the Scotsman sighed once more. “We ne’er did hae a chat, th’ a scuttle ay us. We’ll dae ‘at tonecht as we revise th’ schedule fur body projection,” he decided before turning away and stepping onto the platform, successfully ending the conversation. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone had a good holiday (if you celebrated). We're that much closer to the zoo, like **zerousy** pointed out in one of the comments. Can anyone guess what might happen?
> 
> Have a safe weekend and catch you next week!
> 
> Last, but certainly not least: **Alistair Translation**  
>  _We ne’er did hae a chat, th’ a scuttle ay us. We’ll dae ‘at tonecht as we revise th’ schedule fur body projection_ \- We never did have a chat, the six of us. We’ll do that tonight as we revise the schedule for body projection


	61. Radio Silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo-hooo!!! We've reached 3000+ reads and 200+ comments! This is all because of you guys because you all are so freaking awesome! My muse is just preening because of all the love given from all of you guys, which brings me to this week's shout outs:
> 
> To my wonderful and ever faithful **zerousy** and **Writers_Have_Their_Own_Set_of_Rules** , to my new reviewers **HL_WinterStuckyBarnes** and **EobardWells14** , and to **HL_WinterStuckyBarnes** and **EobardWells14** again as well as **Arabella_Hawke20** , **kyubbilover87** , and my unnamed guest for the kudos! You guys are awesome!
> 
> Alright, three more things before I let you go, first... we are heading into movie-verse territory. I hope you're ready for it all. Second, as we get deeper into December, please be careful as the weather changes and have a wonderful weekend! Also be careful if you're going holiday shopping. People are insane! And last but not certainly not least, I'm sorry for the later than normal update. My internet is being super, super shitty.
> 
> Much love to you all and peace out!

Settling himself into a chair in the far corner of the library, Alistair set out the books to complete the assigned Math and Science assignments they had gained for that evening, he then pulled out his phone and scrolled through the short list of contacts to his Mates’. Instead of pressing the call button as Abigail had said to Mr. Facellini, he pressed the messaging button instead. He reread the entire conversation since four days ago and smiled to himself. Then he went to compose a message.  
  
**_We’re finished school for the day. All went well on our end._** He hesitated, wondering how to finish it off. **_Getting closer until we can see you in person again. ~Alistair._** He wondered how it would come across to whichever Mate would end up reading it.  
  
_‘You could ask about their day,’_ Clarke murmured a suggestion from her chair.  
  
Emma added, _‘Or tell them about what Abby’s making in art class.’_  
  
_‘Or that we haven’t stopped thinking about them,’_ Mercedes commented with a provocative twist to her lips.  
  
Abigail rolled her eyes, tell them, _‘Leave him alone unless he asks for help,’_ she commanded them. She turned in her seat asking, _‘Unless… are you asking for help?’_  
  
“Mm fine,” Alistair muttered aloud to himself for them, not wanting to sink inside and have himself pushed off the projector. He hit ‘send’ and set the phone down after making sure the volume was on the lowest setting so as not to disturb the other occupants of the library. He began to do their homework.  
  
An hour and a half later, with no reply having come in yet, Alistair was able to put the books for their now finished assignments away so they didn’t have to complete them at Grace’s. That left only a little bit of Literature reading to complete by tonight and a worksheet for MUSH. Shooting off a quick text to Grace and Jon to let them know they were finally leaving school for the day, Alistair hobbled off to the exit closest to where they would need to need to head toward the bus station. Just reaching the outside curb, the male alter spotted Casey stepping into the passenger side of her uncle’s truck and flinching at whatever barb he shot at her. He watched the rusty old vehicle pull away until it was gone from view, a morose expression on his face, wishing he knew some way to push his acquaintance into seeking help from better sources but knew it was her call to make.  
  
The male sighed and tugged at the phone they shared once more.  
  
1 New Text Message.  
  
From Jon: **_Got let out a bit early. Heading your way. Can pick you up if you want._**  
  
Alistair nodded and sent a thank you and told him where he could find them. Still, no text from any of their Mates.  
  
_‘It’s fine,’_ Abigail murmured. _‘They’re probably busy.’_ Though with the face she was making, she wasn’t convincing anybody. 


	62. Polar Opposites

Jon appeared about six minutes after Alistair had sent off the original text. The Asian man looked the body of his foster daughter over with a confused smile. “Weren’t you wearing something different this morning?” he asked as they pulled away from the curb. His observant-ness was surprising.  
  
“Abigail was. I’m Alistair an’ these ur mah clase.”  
  
The man and the male alter exchanged a look, the older one trying to wrap his head around the much deeper voice coming from the seventeen-year-old female body, having only had three sons in one body previously. He decided tact was his friend and avoided mentioning it. Instead, he stated, “Well, it’s nice to meet you Alistair. Scottish?”  
  
“Aye.”  
  
They slowed at a red light. “How was your first day back? Oh, you turn in the paperwork like your mother asked you to?”  
  
_‘Foster mother,’_ he mentally corrected the older man. However, aloud, he replied, “Aye. Ain it was fahne.”  
  
The dark haired man shot the male alter a look. “That’s all I get?” Alistair shifted away from him, just in case the man decided to get angry and strike him like Joseph was fond of doing, however, the older man’s muscles were slack and he appeared at ease. The male shrugged and said nothing. Jon made a humming noise before adding, “You don’t talk much, do you?” Alistair shrugged again. Suddenly the Asian man smiled, chuckling to himself. “Well, I suppose someone would have to be a polar opposite to Emma.” Alistair smirked at that. “Ah, there we go,” Jon commented, seeing the grin.  
  
Suddenly, The Group’s phone vibrated in their back pocket.  
  
Hurriedly, Alistair pulled it out and brought it about to his lap.  
  
1 New Text Message  
  
**_Sorry it took so long for us to reply. We had a stupid code of conduct/sexual harassment training to complete today. It was sooo super boring. Be glad you didn’t have to sit through it. Nearly fell asleep several times. Glad to hear your day went well. Ours did too, despite the training. Text back when you can. With love from Kat <3_**  
  
Alistair grinned widely, wondering how young this alter was.  
  
“From Luke?” Alistair looked up in confusion. “The text. Is it from your Mate Luke?”  
  
The male alter shook his head. “Kat,” he replied quietly.  
  
“Oh, who’s Kat?”  
  
Alistair hesitated. “Luke’s sister,” he finally fibbed, not really wanting to explain the fact that his Mates numbered all the way up to twenty-four. If any Unmarked got wind on either of them… Alistair did not want to think about any possible lynch mobs that the they would have to run from. Or, what would happen to the Group if they needed more protection than he, himself, was able to give them. Would another personality appear? An even stronger being capable of running faster and farther? Or with denser bones to take on being beaten? He sighed and decided to text his Mate back instead.  
  
**_Have you all decided for Friday? ~Alistair_**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Alistair Translation**  
>  _Abigail was. I’m Alistair an' these ur mah clase_ \- Abigail was. I’m Alistair and these are my clothes.  
>  _Ain it was fahne_ \- And it was fine.


	63. Suspicions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout outs in this chapter are going out to **Writers_Have_Their_Own_Set_of_Rules** , **HL_WinterStuckyBarnes** , and **zerousy** for their wonderful reviews!

The System were still figuring out who would be able to deal with an overly provocative teenager but they were all clamoring to meet their Mates. Barry rubbed a hand over his face and shot a look to Mr. Pritchard whom he often asked for help from when the lot of them got so rowdy even he couldn’t reign them in. Their would-be-teacher alter stood from his chair and clapped his hands hard, only for it to be ineffective over the din; everyone was pumped for Friday and it was like a pressure cooker.  
  
Jade, seeing their need for order and since she was bored at the moment, stood on her own chair, stuck her fingers into her mouth and whistled shrilly, cutting through all the banter and gaining everyone’s attention. Except for her best friend, Kat. The fourteen-year-old was in the middle chair currently, as it was her turn for the light, and if the grin on her face was anything to go by, the teenage female alter would bet the slightly younger girl was texting their Mate(s). Jealousy flashed through her for a bit but soon, very soon, it would be her turn, gosh darn it all!  
  
And she could hardly wait.  
  
To be loved so fully and without abandon.  
  
“Thank you,” Barry thanked Pritchard and Jade and glanced around the circle. Three seats were empty: Kat and everyone knew where she was, Patricia - who had retreated to the train yard when they had finally banished her, and Hedwig. He frowned, glancing over to Dennis, who was sitting rigidly in his chair, strong arms folded tightly over his built chest. He called out to the larger alter and the shaved head jerked up. “Where’s Hedwig?”  
  
The taciturn alter frowned and shrugged. “I am not the boy’s keeper,” he rumbled out, evasively, untucking his arms only to push his glasses up his nose and then refold them. “Perhaps, _you_ should keep a better eye on him.”  
  
The artist stared at the unusually defiant look on the much taller alter’s face and felt his throat close minutely. If Dennis wanted to, he could snap him like a twig. However, this whole thing smelled fishy. Usually Dennis was much more… compliant with anything asked of him. Perhaps he was spending too much time with Patricia in the train yard and her radical ideals. At least he wasn’t spouting off any more stories of The Beast, though he had been getting more taciturn with The System with each passing week. However, he could not afford to show weakness and squared his shoulders.  
  
The sound of shuffling brought everyone’s attention to the side to see the curly haired nine-year-old freeze under everyone’s scrutiny.  
  
He was safe. Thank god.  
  
“Thorry,” the child lisped quietly. “Didn’t know we were having a meeting.” He went to his chair and glanced at Dennis with an obvious grin. Barry frowned. He would have to take the boy aside and warn him against the train yard once again. 


	64. The Joys of Children

After dinner was finished that night, Grace was watching Emma, who had taken over Hope’s body once their homework had been finished and had been bouncing around the house chattering a mile a minute ever since, carefully load everyone’s dishes into the dishwasher. “Cups go onto the upper shelf, sweetie,” she gently instructed the child alter, watching the oddly brown flecked blue eyes flick towards her, their innocence desire to please her apparent and heart warming. “Good job. Also, I have a question for you.”  
  
The child tucked the glass into its spot and then looked expectantly up at the short haired woman who had taken The Group in. “Can you please tell Abigail that your first appointment with Doctor Karen Fletcher is on Saturday?”  
  
The child twisted her dirty fingers into the hem of her shirt as she wiggled back in front of the older woman, saying, “Cause you told me, Abby knows already.” The child alter cocked her head, gaze going blank for a moment before she reasserted her attention on Grace. “And she says thank you very much.”  
  
The redhead smiled at the girl and nodded. “I heard you were texting Luke’s sister today. Is she a friend of yours?”  
  
Emma shook her head. “We’ve never met yet,” she admitted, “but I can’t wait to!” Turning away from the woman, the six-year-old spotted Jon setting up the television. “Oh! Are we going to watch more Captain America? He’s my favorite!”  
  
“Come wash your hands first,” Grace called, remembering the child’s dirty fingertips from putting away the dishes. The child bounded back over to her to do that as her husband smiled after them indulgently.  
  
“He is pretty awesome,” he agreed, raising his voice so the child could hear over the rushing water from the kitchen faucet. “So, the next on the list is actually called The Avengers. So, we’re going to get to see Steve - the captain -” he explained when he saw her slight confusion, “get to interact with Iron Man, Thor, and the Hulk.” He grinned, seeing the child clap happily and dry her hands under his wife’s supervision.  
  
After the movie, Emma was yawning heavily. Grace slowly herded the child upstairs and supervised the six-year-old alter bathe after thoroughly wrapping up her cast, change into her pajamas and then brush her teeth. The yellowed bruises were finally beginning to fade.  
  
“The sooner you go to sleep, the sooner you can go to the zoo on Friday,” Grace told the child indulgently, tucking her foster child under her covers and watching the sleepy child nod and begin to close her eyes. She turned off the light and closed the door almost all the way behind her, walking quietly away. 

* * *

Once Emma had sleepily shuffled from the projection platform, Alistair had scooped her up to take her off to her room. He returned ten minutes later.  
  
“Alright, everyone,” Abigail announced, pushing herself to her feet and turned to face the other three alters. “Time for a chat.” 


	65. Battle Dress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, first things first, we are closing in on the holidays and I am wishing you all a happy and safe holiday, whichever one you might celebrate!
> 
> So, it’s finally here… The zoo trip! And as a special treat, I will be giving you an extra chapter this time through only because the next two chapters are a two-parter and I couldn’t bring myself to leave you on that cliff just waiting to see what would happen. I just hope you don’t hate me too much even though a few of you made guesses at what is coming.
> 
> Also, I skipped over The Group’s discussion and the day before the zoo trip just because it would have been more filler and I was not about to drag out the agony of waiting anymore. So, just know they had the discussion, The Group went to school on Thursday, Clarke was in charge for most of the day so she could have some time, finally, and they worked on their art project. Any other details you guys absolutely need to know will be covered in this update.
> 
> Now, shout outs: **Writers_Have_Their_Own_Set_of_Rules** , **zerousy** for their wonderful and faithful reviews and to **LeanneRachael** and my unnamed guest for the kudos. Thank you all so much!

The day of the zoo trip had arrived.  
  
Mercedes was nearly vibrating with the glee of having control of their body and the utter anticipation of getting her hands on their Mate; which left Abigail in a state of nervousness that had even Alistair staring at the blonde with an unamused look. And, unfortunately, since their leg was still casted from mid thigh to their foot, Mercedes was forced into wearing the “dumpy” sweatpants from Walmart and not her favorite pair of sexy jeans that made her ass look amazing. Instead, she had to settle for the rest of her outfit being her favorite leopard print matching underwear set and low V-cut, semi-sheer white long sleeved blouse. According to the golden skinned alter, the clingy material showcased the girls quite nicely and didn’t make her look like an old soccer mom like the strawberry blonde’s outfits usually did.  
  
_‘You look easy,’_ Abigail groused as Mercedes leaned towards the bathroom mirror and carefully applied her makeup that the rest of the alters passed up on wearing. This excluded Clarke, though the redhead hadn’t worn any the day before for her second day out because she didn’t want to borrow Mercedes’ and risk cross contamination; it was turning out she was a bit of a germ-a-phobe. Once The Group returned to going to work on Monday (yea to Nuno for being super supportive and understanding) she would be allotted some of their earnings to purchase herself some. As well as begin her own wardrobe.  
  
The seventeen-year-old alter smirked once she was finally finished with her eyes, slightly smokey cats’ eye look. “I might look ‘easy’ to you, and I might enjoy sex - like really enjoy it, but I’m not easy,” she stated aloud, not worrying about Grace or Jon overhearing since both were already downstairs.  
  
_‘We grounded you for specifically trying to…’_ Abigail glanced at Emma who was being distracted by Clarke, _‘ you-know-what with Jack from Statistics class. He didn’t even say anything and you pulled him into the abandoned stairwell. You are easy!’_  
  
_‘Enough,’_ Alistair rumbled from his seat. _‘Abigail, ye arenae ‘er mammy.’_  
  
That shut up the oldest female alter, though she sulked a bit, and Mercedes smirked but wisely chose her battles and refused to say anything and get herself into more trouble and get her first day of freedom taken away from her. Instead, she rummaged through her makeup box and started on her foundation, bronzer, and blush, applying them all lightly to keep her face looking mostly natural. Finally, she reached for her lip liner and gloss to complete the whole, overall look.  
  
_‘You look so pretty,’_ Emma gushed, finally looking to the theater screen and seeing Mercedes observe the fruit of her labors of getting up twenty minutes earlier than normal.  
  
“Thanks, Em,” the golden alter replied warmly, admiring her work and ignoring Abigail’s grumbling of how wasted those extra minutes were.  
  
“My battle dress is complete,” Mercedes smirked to herself in the mirror. “I’m ready.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Alistair Translation**  
>  _Abigail, ye arenae ‘er mammy_ \- Abigail, you aren’t her mother


	66. Fixed Point in Time, Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, no Casey this chapter, though there is a reason for that which will be explained later on. And you may hate me for the lack of interaction but the next chapter is the reason for it all.

Mercedes, who didn’t get along with Casey Cook that well, was rather relieved when the brunette girl was not in attendance as the school bus closed in on the Philadelphia Zoo. The darker haired girl had not shown up at all, leaving the rest of The Group to wonder if she was, in fact, making a break for it and trying to run away from home. Again. While the golden skinned alter wished her luck, the runaway girl was quickly dismissed from her mind just as quickly.  
  
Mercedes had better things to think about.  
  
Like, which Mate she would get to personally meet today. _‘I want to at least be able to get some kind of skin contact with him - or her. At the very least, though… I’m getting a kiss today,’_ she mentally added as she pushed hurriedly off the bus, ignoring the rude jeering from a classmate behind her. There were already a few uniformed zoo employees waiting for them. She immediately scanned for a familiar face.  
  
There.  
  
Mercedes had to stop herself from running towards her Mate. Not that she really could with her leg cast. Instead, she forced herself to meander forward with the large group of students, hovering at the edge of the crowd, her gaze never faltering from the shaved head. Her cheeks were already beginning to hurt from trying to suppress a large, Cheshire grin. And when those blue eyes glanced her way, she couldn’t hold it back anymore as a warm, if a bit shy, smile was given back at her. When attention for all the students were called, a Texan and distinctly male accent sounded clearly through the crisp air. He introduced himself as Goddard, shooting her a quick wink as the Mark just above her left elbow tingled. Suddenly, his radio crackled and he gave an apologetic look, hurrying off.  
  
Her phone vibrated.  
  
1 New Text Message  
  
**_Promise I’ll make it back to you today, Mercedes, but work comes first ~Goddard_**  
  
With a deep scowl, she quickly typed back, **_I understand. We can always meet up after work if you stay busy ~M_** And she did understand, though it didn’t stop her mood from beginning to sink as the large group were separated into smaller clusters of ten and then released to meander around the zoo with a guide. Luckily, she didn’t know any of them well and wasn’t forced to make smalltalk.  
  
As lunch finally rolled around, Mercedes was pissed. Their Mate had been MIA all day. Another guide sidled up to Mercedes as they entered the cafeteria. “Hi, I’m Ethel, a friend of Goddard’s,” she said as way of greeting.  
  
“Mercedes,” the teen replied, shaking the older woman’s hand.  
  
“Ah. You.” The female alter tensed. “Don’t worry. It was mentioned you’re a bit… risqué. Just remember, they’ve had harder lives than most so be gentle. I care for quite a few of them and I’d hate to have to feed you to a lion for breaking their hearts.” 


	67. Fixed Point in Time, Part Two (The Conclusion)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now for the moment you have all been waiting for… Or dreading.

Mercedes stared at the smiling woman and felt the corners of her mouth turn up. “When he has friends like you, who needs enemies,” the teen replied. The woman chuckled. “I don’t want to break anyone’s heart, Ethel,” she stated. “I just want to meet him… and maybe get a kiss.” She shrugged.  
  
The older female shrugged, nodding in understanding. “The thing you need to know about Goddard is he may come off as a bit shy but it’s just his way of observing you and calculating how to interact with you.” Her eyes drifted over the alter’s shoulder and a wide grin split her face. “Speak of the devil.”  
  
Ethel’s radio took that second to crackle to life and she excused herself to answer the summons.  
  
Turning her gaze, time froze as Mercedes spotted Goddard carrying a large box with food stuffs into the cafeteria for their lunch. He put it down on a far table and helped a coworker put everything out for the students. Ethel made her way over to him and whispered something, pointing in the teen’s direction. His gaze snapped to her and Mercedes swallowed nervously until both of them shot her a grin. Relief eased through her veins as Ethel clapped Goddard on the shoulder and left the pavilion.  
  
“Alright, everyone, come get your lunches,” another worker called out. En masse, the students hurried forward like starving animals.  
  
Mercedes hesitated, not wanting to get pushed and shoved although her ribs were finally better. She looked back to where her Mate was standing off to the side and frowned. She watched Claire Benoit and Marcia Sula suddenly broke away from the crowd and sauntered over to towards Goddard. Dread welled up in the golden skinned alter as the two girls took his hands in theirs and placing them up under their shirts and onto their breasts with sultry grins. With wicked smirks, they then turned and slipped away from him, back to the rest of their classmates, giggling all the while, getting away scot-free.  
  
What the fuck?!  
  
Had no one else seen them?!  
  
Goddard’s face showed shock, then horror and then several emotions passed over his face to quickly to discern what they were and his whole body shuddered, as if he were having an epileptic fit. Screams went up as people finally noticed and several of his co-workers rushed forward to grab him as his legs buckled beneath him.  
  
Something was very wrong.  
  
Heat suddenly licked through the female alter, starting with her abdomen and spreading out to every inch of her body as a steady, quick thundering sounded in her ears. Her hands clapped to her belly and she ripped her shirt upwards only to see the Mark marring the skin just above her belly button darken to a medium gray, the letters still not quite readable, though, like damp ink on a page that suffered from water damage.  
  
Another alter was pushing towards the surface, getting closer to finally coming into existence. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh… As the chapter was called - this was a fixed point in time so I guess you know what that means. However, with this happening, can any of you guess what that means for The Group? I'll leave you to stew on that until next week. So, with that being said, I hope you call have a safe and happy Christmas, Hanukkah, and New Years! Although I should be updating before new years but still! I love you all and happy holidays!!!


	68. The Doctor Is In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry for my much later than normal update. What with Christmas and unexpected work I had to finish, I didn't actually finish writing until about twenty minutes before posting this week's update. And you're getting three chapters again because I just could not make the scene flow enough to be condensed into two without it being really short changed. So, yea! More for you to read.
> 
> Shout outs this week go to my faithful **zerousy** and to my unnamed guest for the kudos! Thank you!

Abigail’s knee was bouncing very quickly as she waited impatiently for the large door to the place - was it an apartment or was it refurbished to look more like an office? - where she would interact with Doctor Karen Fletcher for her first ever psychology session. It also didn’t help that not only had Grace and Jon dropped The Group off early, but the ongoing session was running over, which left the strawberry blonde alter to her thoughts and the mutterings of the rest of The Group, which was not a good idea at the moment.  
  
Pulling out her phone, the female alter went to check on her several text messages that remained in the ‘unread’ status and grimaced at the amount of phone calls she had made and wished a response would finally come in from one of their many Mates after ‘The Incident’ happened yesterday.  
  
_Goddard’s face showed several emotions passed over his face too quickly to discern what they were and his whole body shuddered, as if he were having an epileptic fit. Screams went up as people finally noticed and several of his co-workers rushed forward to grab him as his legs buckled beneath him. And all Mercedes had done was sit and watch, doubling over in pain as the Mark on her belly seared itself darker onto her skin._  
  
After everything settled down, Mercedes had tried to find out what had happened to him but even Ethel had not given her more than a vague answer. That was when the golden skinned alter had had the idea to try to text her Mates repeatedly only to not get a response. And when it failed, she settled for calling them only to get the message; no one was going to answer. And when Abigail had taken control of their body that morning, she had fought her instinct to send off another message with every fiber of her being, despite wishing with all her heart that one final prod might finally have some kind of reaction sent to them. Anything at all. Even if it was annoyance for behaving like an overly naggy wife.  
  
The door creaked open, jarring Abigail out of her thoughts.  
  
Jumping to her feet, Abigail watched a young man step through the doorway, shooting a gruff rebuttal at the elderly doctor before hurrying down the steps. Catching a glimpse of his face before he disappeared from view, her hope that maybe it was one of The System and she could finally catch them and reassure herself that they were alright sank like a lead balloon.  
  
It was not him.  
  
_Or her_ , she reminded herself. There were females in ‘The System’ like there was a man in ‘The Group’ for the six of them.  
  
“Ah, Miss Adler.”  
  
The alter turned away from the stairwell and took in the sight of the older woman standing in the doorway to her apartment/office with a self satisfied smirk. “Actually, I’m Abigail. Hope’s not… ‘in’ at the moment.” 


	69. (Not So) Small Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the one that would not break apart and yes, a tiny bit of filler but also more detailing.

* * *

“Well then… my apologies and it’s good to see you again, Abigail,” Doctor Fletcher greeted the alter. “Please, come in.”  
  
The strawberry blonde forced a smile and adjusted the messenger bag on her shoulder before she stepped through the threshold into the apartment/office. She looked around, taking in the open kitchen in hues of white with accents of mahogany to the left of her and the office in mahogany and cream with accents of green to her right. The doctor moved toward two comfy looking chairs and Abigail reluctantly followed after the older woman, taking in the bookshelves crammed full of books and several plants scattered around the room. As the older woman chose a seat, she sank into the one across from the psychologist before placing her bag by her feet.  
  
“So, I apologize I had to cancel our first session,” Karen began, “but I came down with a case of the flu.”  
  
Abigail nodded with a shrug. “I heard and it’s fine,” she replied. “You’re feeling better, yourself?”  
  
“Yes, thank you. And how was your first week with your new foster parents?”  
  
Despite her anxiety for their Mates’ wellbeing, the alter smiled warmly. “The Mē family has been really wonderful. Really, really wonderful to all of us. They are completely opposite of…” here she swallowed, eyes dropping from the woman’s face as her voice came out a little tighter, “Joseph.” She twisted her fingers in her lap as she finally thought about the man who had destroyed her life for the first time in several days.  
  
Doctor Fletcher looked up from the notes she had just started and regarded her newest patient. “Are you - or and of the others - having any nightmares?” The strawberry blonde turned inward to get any vague answers. She nodded when her attention came back to the outside world. “Before we talk about that, can you do that often? Being able to turn inwards to talk to the other alters?”  
  
“Yes,” Abigail replied to her. “We’ve always been able to. It’s why I actually sketched you… this…” She reached down for her messenger bag at her feet and pulled out her new sketch pad, flipping to the first page. “I decided to show you how all of us get to see what goes on. From what I’ve read, I’m pretty sure it’s technically called ‘Cognitive Dissonance’ since we can all tell when another alter is in charge of the body.”  
  
The doctor took the sketch pad from the teenager and looked over the detailed rendition of The Group’s inner theater. “Oh, this is amazing, Abigail. You drew this?”  
  
The strawberry blonde nodded. “Yes, thank you. Hope and I have the artistic talent… and Emma would like me to add her to that too. Although, she’s a budding jack of all trades, to be sure.” Karen smiled widely at the younger female and then looked back at the book. Flipping the page, she sucked in a breath at the imagery of the projection platform. 


	70. Getting To Know You

Abigail sat forward, explaining how the theater’s projection platform worked for The Group. “So, one of us stand on that and then the others can all see and hear what the body is going through on the screen. The emotions, the taste, and the physical touch, however, belong solely to the alter in charge.”   
  
“That’s wonderful. You have such talent,” Karen grinned, flipping to the next page and freezing. “And who is this lovely young woman?”   
  
The artist flushed. “That’s… me,” she admitted quietly. “What I… as in Abigail actually look like,” she admitted, twisting her fingers in her lap again. Karen glanced up at the teenager and then back down, fingers tracing over masterfully colored soft curls and the elfish chin. “I drew everyone as closely as I could, if you want to see us for who we really are.” Karen eagerly flipped to the next page. “That’s Mercedes.”   
  
“She’s very beautiful,” the doctor commented. The golden skinned alter preened within her seat. “She reminds me of someone. Oh, that - that one Egyptian princess… or something… in that movie.”   
  
Abigail sighed internally. There would be no living with Mercedes after this.   
  
“And this must be Emma!” Karen gleefully took in the image of the grinning dark haired six year old, her large chocolate eyes radiating her excitement and her innocence. “She is absolutely precious and she obviously loves pink.” If the tee shirt, hair clips, watch and sneakers were anything to go by, then yes. She flipped the page. “Alistair is rather fierce, isn’t he?” Abigail nodded, looking over the image of the lone male alter standing tall with his large arms crossed over his steel-like barrel chest. “I suppose he would have been in the military if he could have been.”   
  
The female alter smirked. “I could definitely see that.” The doctor flipped the page. “And that’s Clarke, our newest addition.”   
  
Karen pursed her lips. “Is she the alter that appeared a few days ago?” Abigail blinked in surprise. “Oh yes. Norma told me all about it at our last appointment. She was utterly thrilled at having another male Mate.” Clarke grimaced within her chair. “I suppose she’s in for a surprise, isn’t she?” Doctor Fletcher closed the book. “Would it be possible to make copies of these?”   
  
Abigail nodded before asking, “Did Norma say anything else? Or namely about… say… yesterday?”   
  
The older woman, who had been in the process of getting up, paused, frowning. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re talking about, dear,” she replied. “I haven’t seen any of The System since their last appointment last week. Although, work scheduled one for today about something that happened. Were you there?”   
  
The strawberry blonde nodded. “Yeah, my school was on a field trip yesterday and I… I unfortunately saw what happened. And the only reason I’m bringing it up was because of Goddard’s reaction and then the fact that he or anyone has not answered any of our texts or phone calls. It’s really worrying.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll leave it up to you which movie and which character I mean when I say 'Egyptian princess' but feel free to guess if you want. If you want, I could tell you, but that requires a comment. ***Insert wink here*** And oh no, none of The System has been by to see Karen yet but someone will today. Will Abigail get to see one of her Mates? Guess you'll find out next week! Have a safe and happy new year, you guys (and gals) and I will see you all in 2018!


	71. Reviewing Events

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! We made it to 240 comments, 207 kudos, and 3349 read-throughs and a resilient 24 bookmarks! Woo! You guys are the absolute best! And you guys helped me start my new year off right! 6 reviews for the last update! I was riding that high for days. Actually, I'm still smiling like the cat that got the canary, as the saying goes.
> 
> And, side note, how did everyone fare with the snow storm yesterday? Where I'm at, it was at two feet deep by noon. So, please try to be safe and warm for the rest of this weekend.
> 
> And now for shout outs: thank you to **Drago_wolf288** , **Rayne3686** , **ForestGreenSun** , and my faithful **zerousy** for all the wonderful reviews! Thank you, thank you, thank you all so much! And of course, last but certainly never least, thank you to **Rayne3686** , **NenaDarling** , **ForestGreenSun** , **Lillie13** , and my unnamed guest for your kudos!

Karen looked up when she heard a knock on the open front door and saw the familiar figure of Barry leaning his head around the doorway and into the kitchen,, only he wasn’t smiling at the moment and his wardrobe - after her brief once over - had taken on a darker hue than normal. “Come on in, Barry,” she greeted the alter with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I was just making a fresh pot of tea. Would you like some?”  
  
“No, thank you, Doctor K,” he replied, his voice only reassuring her that he was not his normal self. Luckily, she would not be blindsided, after gaining the details from Abigail earlier on in the day. “Oh, we also had to get a new phone today but the numbers didn’t transfer over for some reason.”  
  
Ah, that made sense. “That’s alright,” she replied, stepping back as the male gallantly took her tea tray for her and brought it over to their seats in the office. She thanked him warmly and took the proffered mobile device to save her contact information. “I suppose that would be the reason why The Group was not able to get ahold of you yesterday.” Once she was finished, she made sure to also add in another entry, taken from the slip of paper resting on the small table beside her chair.  
  
The alter froze at her words, having been halfway in the sitting down position, one leg bent at the knee to hold up the rest of his body, the other straight out with the rest of his weight balanced on the heel of his polished boot while his backside hovered over the cushion Abigail herself had sat upon hours ago - not that he knew that for sure - and his arms were bent, elbows facing backwards. All his strength gave out and Barry dropped to his seat with a heavy sigh. In the back of his mind, he knew that his psychologist would be informed about ‘The Incident’ (Ethel had even made absolute sure Goddard knew that) and he had know their Mates would be at the place of their work yesterday but it was still hard to hear. But… there was no time like the present and it was better to talk about it and get it out of the way so that he and the rest of The System could move forward, hopefully with their Mates. He nodded and sat sat forward, now resting his elbows on his knees.  
  
“You’re right, Doctor K,” the male artist nodded his shaved head. “We should go over it. Actually, Goddard wants to talk, if that’s alright?”  
  
She nodded, watching in utter fascination as the male before her and closed his eyes, shuddering slightly as Barry gave up the light. He allowed himself a moment to get situated into the body - and clothing with a grimace.  
  
“Good afternoon, Goddard,” Doctor Fletcher greeted him with a comforting smile. “Let’s start from the beginning, shall we?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Doctor K! Adding in The Group's info for them so now none of The System have any excuse why they can't make contact.


	72. The Welling of Dread

Clarke looked up from the literature homework she was reviewing when her phone vibrated. A surge of excitement shot through her and she immediately grasped the small mobile device and looked at the notifications, feeling the other alters all perk up when the realized what she was doing. Instantly, her hope - and theirs - died when she noticed it was just a random spam email from Groupon and not the text she was so desperately waiting for. Inside their mind theater, she could hear the other alters talking amongst themselves.  
  
_‘Do they not love us anymore?’_ Emma asked quietly, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her face upon her knobby knees as she looked imploringly towards her would-be mother.  
  
Abigail instantly reached out for the youngest alter and brought her into her lap. _‘No, sweetie,’_ she assured the child. _‘They’re probably just dealing with all of the emotional fallout from what Mercedes witnessed. And, that means they’re probably just working out why it happened and learning how to deal with it. Does that make sense?’_ The littlest brunet nodded slowly and snuggled into her mother-like figure.  
  
_‘They still should have called us by now,’_ the golden skinned alter snapped with an angry pout. _‘Or at least gotten into some form of connection. Something! Didn’t that stupid doctor make sure to tell them we were worried? How can they know if their phone is broken or lost and she doesn’t tell them?!’_  
  
Abigail shot the younger girl a scowl as she adjusted the child in her lap. _‘I’m sure she did. You were all watching as she promised me she would. And we don’t actually know what happened to their phone,’_ the strawberry blonde reminded her, trying to be the voice of reason. Clarke nodded slowly from the outside. _‘Maybe during ‘The Incident’ it went down one of the large grates you saw.’_ The teen grimaced but verbally acknowledged that she had indeed seen them and that a phone could have easily dropped down into the sewers.  
  
In the outside world, the phone vibrated once more and all of the alters snapped to attention, groaning when it was another email; though this one was important as it contained their resumption of their work schedule for the following week, starting on Monday. Clarke opened it and saw they were only working three days instead of the normal five Abigail said they usually received. She supposed it was because of their casted leg and the fact that they had been out of commission for going on almost thirteen/fourteen days now. She bounced her uncasted knee ever so slightly, trying to ignore the itchy feeling that she would not be able to reach on the other leg.  
  
“Dinner’s ready!”  
  
“Coming, Grace,” Clarke replied in a raised voice to be heard downstairs. Pushing herself back from her desk, she glanced once more upon her phone and frowned, determined to ignore the blossoming seeds of dread telling her that something was going very wrong. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no! Clarke's leaving the phone upstairs while she eats dinner! Guess we'll just have to wait until next week to find out what happens next.


	73. Like Chocolate Chip Cookies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the title is actually in honor of something **zerousy** said and I'm sorry I can't give you actual cookies, but I can give you virtual ones.
> 
> Shout outs go out to my faithful **zerousy** for the three reviews from last week and to **fridel_00** , **Polgara6** , and 2 unnamed guests for their kudos.

Clarke ate delicately, taking her time so she didn’t have to think about the fact that she would eventually go upstairs to her room, check her phone, and find out that no one had called. She wasn’t sure if she could bear it. Gently setting her fork on the side of her plate, she moved her hand over to her water goblet and took a sip before placing it back down silently.   
  
“Are you alright, Clarke?”   
  
The newest female alter glanced up towards her foster mother. “I’m… well,” she replied slowly. “I just have a bit on my mind.”   
  
“Your Mate hasn’t called you back yet?” Jon asked. The teen shook her head, gaze dropping slightly in contemplation. “I’m sure there’s a good explanation.”   
  
The girl nodded. “I’m sure you’re right,” she replied slowly, quietly. “Which is why… if it’s not too much to ask, after I put away the dishes into the dishwasher, if either of you would mind if I watched the next Marvel movie tonight?” She continued, before a response could be formed, “I only have one more assignment for tonight, which is already more than halfway complete and I’d really like to watch.”   
  
Grace and Jon glanced at each other. The Asian man shrugged. The redhead nodded. “Alright. Marvel it is.”   
  
Clarke smiled. “Thank you,” she immediately told them, anticipating the film to be distracting enough to take her mind off her problem.   
  
Grace and Jon sat back as the teen puttered around, quickly placing their used dishes, cups, and silverware into the dishwasher, smiling as they observed her slightly improved demeanour. Granted, there was nothing like missing your Mate and not being able to do anything, but at least they were able to provide their new child with some distraction from the pain and the stress caused by others. And while the girl finished tidying up after the meal, Jon placed the next movie into the Blu-Ray player and cued it up for their entertainment.   
  
After the movie finished, with all of the awake alters watching eagerly from their seats, Clarke stepped into her bedroom and saw a blinking light on her phone. With bated breath, she pressed the voicemail notification and held the device to her ear.   
  
“Hey, luv,” came the Texan accent of Goddard. “Found your contact information put in here and wanted to call you as soon as I saw it. Let you know I’m not avoiding you after what happened.” There was a heavy sigh. “You’re probably eating dinner. I’m sorry if I’ve interrupted. Just… call back when you can… Tomorrow would be better because we have an early meeting to get ready for. Anyway, just… tag, you’re it, luv. And good night.”   
  
Clarke smiled so widely it hurt her cheeks as the message ended and she pushed the commands to listen to it again, soaking in the handsome voice.   
  
He’d finally called and it left her with the happy feeling usually had when biting into a warm chocolate chip cookie. 


	74. Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Group is about to return to work for the first time. I think I mentioned it before, but she's got a job at the Drexel bookstore, stocking shelves, working the cash registers, etc. I haven't been to the area in a while but I remember it was such a cool place to walk around and explore a bit while meeting up with a few college friends.
> 
> However, be warned, this chapter is setting up for some darker stuff for next week. Just fyi. I'll out warnings before the chapter starts but this is a preemptive strike.
> 
> Have a good long weekend and I'll see you next week!

“Hope! You’re back!”  
  
Abigail cringed at being called the wrong name but turned from her cubby in the back office to see a familiar, pretty woman in her mid-to-late twenties striding quickly up towards her with a beaming smile.  
  
From inside their mind theater, Emma told Clarke, _‘That’s Holly. She’s been super nice and helped us a lot when Abby and Hope first got the job here.’_ Mercedes and Alistair nodded their agreement to that. Then the child added in a very loud whisper, _‘She doesn’t know we’re all here. She just thinks we act funny sometimes. I like messing with her when there’s not much to do.’_ The older female alter nodded.  
  
“Hey, Holly,” the strawberry blonde greeted the brunet, stepping back to keep a bit of space between the two of them, appreciating Holly for understanding her… _dislike_ of touch after all she had been through, not that the older woman knew the details but she had an idea. “It’s great to be back. I’m just super happy Nuno let me keep my job.”  
  
The taller woman nodded. “Are you going to be okay doing inventory today?” Her gaze swept over the younger girl’s almost fully casted leg.  
  
“I’ll be fine. I’ll just be a little slower than normal,” Abigail shrugged, making sure the door to her cubby closed and locked itself securely. She didn’t need her new phone - which she had been trying avidly to avoid checking all day - picked up by sticky fingers. She absently wondered who the klepto was and was very glad her things would be safe during her first shift back.  
  
“Look who’s back among the living!”  
  
Both women turned to see their resident metrosexual standing in the doorway of the back office. Behind him was Jack, their newest employee who was sweet but sometimes a little creepy - or at least Abigail thought so - when they were alone.  
  
“Are you sure you’re fit for full duty, girlfriend?” Christopher asked, sauntering over to her in his designer labeled outfit. “I mean, if I were you, I would have totally asked Nuno for more time off. But, of course, that is just me, and who is gonna pamper me but me? Am I right, ladies?” They chuckled.  
  
“Look, I just want everything to go back to normal,” Abigail murmured in reply to his question. “I appreciate that you want me to take it easy but I’m fine. I promise I’ll tell you if I need to take a break or something but please, I just want everything to return to normal.”  
  
_‘Well, mostly normal,’_ she conceded. _‘I actually_ like _living with Grace and Jon.’_  
  
“Hey,” Jack greeted her with a cheesy smile. Abigail forced herself not to flinch when he stepped forward and gave her a quick hug. “Oh, I know you’re just getting back and all,” he suddenly commented, “but have you heard about this girl who apparently has **twenty-three** Soul Marks? Man, the Mark-less are gonna chew her up and spit her out.” 


	75. Social Media

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so not only is The Group having trouble getting into contact with The System after 'The Incident' on top of having art class with the bitches who caused it but now one more thing to add to the pile. Also, I've never actually used Twitter before - and none of my friends have an account either - so if the posting is wrong here, then please forgive me. I only had Goggle images to work off of.
> 
> Now, shout outs for this week: of course to my lovely and faithful **zerousy** , and to the fabulous **Writers_Have_Their_Own_Set_of_Rules** for their reviews and to the kudo count of 3, thank you very much to **Tala_Paige** and both of my unnamed guests. Thank you all so much!

“Jack, seriously? What the absolute hell?” Holly demanded, rounding on him immediately with a horrified and slightly angry gasp. “Why - no, _how_ could you even _try_ to say something like that?” Christopher nodded emphatically, sculpted brows raised high on his forehead. “It’s not like this mystery girl - who might not even actually exist by the way because you know you can’t always believe what you read on the internet. It’s not like she can’t control how many Marks she has.”  
  
The youngest male employee looked shocked. “It’s not me,” he insisted. “News about this has been spreading for almost a week and you should hear what people are saying on the internet.” He pulled out his phone and started to pull open news feed and his twitter account.  
  
Licking her lips nervously, Abigail asked, looking between Jack, Holly, and Christopher, “How did anyone even hear about it? I mean… it sounds made up anyway. Doesn’t it?” She laughed weakly, her heart beginning to speed up within her chest. Her hands felt clammy and her mouth had gone dry. Her uncasted knee bounced quickly.  
  
Christopher shrugged. “Yeah, it sounds made up. But if it is true… it’ll probably blow over in a few weeks when some celebrity does something stupid or something else happens,” he suggested with a flourish of one of his hands. “Still, I do want to hear about this.” He turned to Jack. “Can you find the original tweet or whatever the original post was?” He leaned over the shorter man’s shoulder. “Come on, ladies. Don’cha want to see this?” The brunet grimaced but then hesitantly shuffled behind Jack and looked over his shoulder down at the small screen. Christopher turned towards Abigail and the strawberry blonde alter slowly pushed herself to her feet, hesitantly moving forward.  
  
Inside of their theater, all of the alters were panicking, though none were sure what to do about the situation. Emma had begun to cry helplessly, leaving Clarke biting her thumb nail as she attempted to calm the child down while Mercedes jumped to her feet to pace back and forth, fall into her chair, only to jump back up once again. Even cool, calm Alistair was sitting rigidly in his chair, large hands grasping the armrests with taut knuckles as his tightly locked jaw worked back and forth. In her bed, Hope tossed her head as her brow furrowed.  
  
“Ah, here it is, the original post.”  
  
Abigail snapped to attention as she looked at the twitter feed, soaking in everything before her.  
  
**_New vegetable came in few days ago. Felt bad until it was confirmed today - 23 Marks! WTF?! I don’t even have 1! Who the fuxk does she think she is?! They’re calling a specialist, hopefully to take her away. #waytoomanyMarks #hopethisbitchgoesaway_**  
  
There were around 4,000 retweets, about 2000 favorites and not quite 1000 responses. A lot of them weren’t good. Some were vile. Others frightening.  
  
Abigail immediately felt nausea rise within her, making her quickly excuse herself. 


	76. History

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously the history facts in this chapter are made up but I would also like to mention **there will be slight trigger warnings in this chapter. I repeat slight trigger warnings  in this chapter**.

Abigail wiped her mouth and cupped some of the sink water, swishing it about to help alleviate the taste of the bile, and wished that Holly wasn’t hovered behind her, a worried look on her face, because in all honesty, the younger woman had no idea what to tell her. Although, the brunet was clever and her actions may have clued in the other woman. Although, there was only one true way to be sure.  
  
With a sigh, after splashing some more cool water on her face, Abigail pushed herself upright and slowly turned to face her coworker, slowly drying her hands and face with the brown paper towels. “Is it you?” Holly was direct.  
  
Abigail swallowed, grimacing at the residual taste of bile in the back of her throat. “I have… more than the normal amount,” Abigail admitted, though kept it vague still, neither confirming nor denying, “and seeing that much… that much just… absolute… hatred on the internet… over something no one can control… it scares me.” Holly grimaced. “Did you see what some people were saying?”  
  
“It’s all talk.”  
  
“For now, maybe,” Abigail insisted. “How long before some Markless gets angry enough to try to start taking people out?” Abigail insisted, clenching the damp towel in her hands. “It’s happened before. Don’t you remember Joan Asterria of France? She had four Marks back in the fifteenth century and she was put to death for ‘dealing with the devil’. Rebecca Williams, the daughter of an earl or something, in the sixteenth century had six and when it was found out by one of her betrothed, he was threatening to tell everyone and in the struggle between them - he died. Because she got caught trying to hide his body to save her own life, she was stripped naked, marched through the town so she could have stones thrown at her until she got to prison. There she was raped and beaten until she died. In the seventeenth century, there were those women in Salem who were accused of being witches and were publicly tortured for having more than two Marks. Having up to three Marks only became acceptable recently. Any more than that and history repeats itself. Even in today’s age, in some states - even here in _the_ States, bad things happen if the Mark-less find out that a Marked has four or more.” The strawberry blonde sighed. “I don’t want to be a statistic, Holly. I don’t want to die over something I never had a choice over.”  
  
The brunet looked down at her feet before she met the teen’s gray eyes once more and nodded, silently promising to keep her secret, though the exact amount of Marks adorning the younger was uncertain. “I guess that school lunch of yours really got the best of you then,” Holly muttered, for added effect.  
  
Abigail smiled, honestly, shoulders dropping in relief that she, at least tentatively, had someone else in her corner at the moment. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Come on.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, this doesn't mean Abigail is outright saying the original post is about her. She is hinting though she's got more Marks than normal and leaving Holly to speculate. The only reason she trusts Holly enough with this information, which will be confirmed in the next update, is the fact that Holly has three Marks and understands what it's like to be in the receiving end of hatred from a random un-Marked just because. And they've been working together for over six months and the girls get along really well.


	77. Controversy At Its Finest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I hope everyone is feeling okay this weekened. I'm stuck with a really bad headcold after having had the flu last weekend. Ugh! So, take your vitamins or your medicine and try to stay healthy and hydrated!
> 
> Also, **zerousy** asked a really good question so I'm going to put it (and the answer of course) up here for your general knowwledge. I was asked, and I quote: _'What's the statics in this story of how many marked and unmarked people are in the world...'_ The answer is as following:
> 
>  **Un-Marked** : approximately 18%,  
>  **1 Mark** : approximately 69%  
>  **2 Marks** : approximately 12%  
>  **3 Marks+** : approximately 1%
> 
> Meaning of over 7.45 billion people on the planet mean that there are about 1.34 billion people on the planet that don't have Marks. And just because someone is born with a Mark, doesn't mean it won't fade if their soulmate dies. I hadn't done statistics on that but if I were to give a statistic on how many don't get to meet their Mate because of unplanned deaths, it would be about 23%, which would mean there's about 2.52 billion people that don't have them to begin with or anymore. So, no, the Un-Marked don't outnumber the Marked but there are a lot of them. You also have to remember the statistics, if they had been done over the centuries, would have changed and I'm basing that off that the number of Marked increase with the increasing of the birthrate over time.
> 
> Does that make sense? If it doesn't let me know in the comments sections and I'll try to explain it even better.
> 
> Now, onto the shout outs this week, which go out to my two best reviewers: **Writers_Have_Their_Own_Set_of_Rules** , and **zerousy** , and the kudo count this week go out to my 3 unnamed guests. Thank you all so much!

Heading back to the employee office, Abigail took a deep breath before she crossed the threshold and saw the boys still leaning over Jack’s phone. Her heart clenched, thinking about the vile things she had only just glanced over and the fact that they were taking the time to read all of them. However, as long as she made sure they didn’t know for sure that it was all about her, then she supposed she could work past it all.  
  
“Hey, hun,” Christopher noticed her first. “You okay?”  
  
Abigail forced a faint smile. “I’m fine. Just allergic to people’s bull shit is all,” she joked. “But seriously, I’m fine. Just all that stuff people are saying about that poor girl and I just seriously got nauseated by it.” Holly nodded sympathetically.  
  
Chris smiled and nodded in agreement. “Totally. People are such assholes. But as I said, it will totally blow over in a few weeks, I’m sure.”  
  
Jack frowned. “People are getting really riled by this,” he argued. “I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a witch hunt for her.” He crossed his arms over his chest while still holding his phone up so he could see its contents, which by the sliver she could see, looked like a news feed.  
  
Abigail stared at him for a long hard minute, wishing he would either just drop the subject or burst into flames, not that she would want Emma to see such things, but if it ended this, she would take it. Turning to Holly, she said, “We should go get started on the inventory before someone comes to yell at us.” The girls left without a backwards glance, even though the strawberry blonde really wanted to shoot more daggers at Jack.  
  
“You know, having three Marks makes me a target for the Mark-less,” Holly said as they started with their task. Abigail grimaced, remembering three weeks ago how the brunet had suffered under the harsh words of an angry customer who had begun shouting immediately about trying to get a refund for a ‘shitty book’ and seen two of the names printed onto her skin and had gone even more ballistic, though, Abigail was sure the woman had just been looking for a reason to cause a scene. “I know it’s not any of my business… but can I ask… how many you have?”  
  
Abigail froze, fear twisting her gut while causing sweat to bead on her brow and trickle down her back. Her hands clenched the medium sized box of books in her hands tighter. She slowly turned to look at her friend. “I’d rather not say,” she replied slowly, “except that it’s more than three.” She sighed. “You have to understand. My Mate… has something called DID - Dissociative Identity Disorder. It… basically… means Kevin has multiple personalities. But the fact of the matter is I have met a couple of them and I have their names on my skin.”  
  
Holly stared at her. “Does that mean… they have… _souls_?” 


	78. Alex

“I’d like to think so,” Abigail replied, staring up at the brunet. “But, the reason I don’t tell anybody is because… Kevin… is already considered to be mentally handicapped and has to deal with bull shit on a daily basis for it. How do you think people would react if they knew he was actually housing other people - not just him - inside his body?” She suddenly smiled and reached for her phone only to remember it was in her cubby.  
  
Holly frowned. “So… why are you telling me?”  
  
Abigail sighed. “I’m showing trust in you because I know you well enough to know you won’t gossip with our coworkers at least and keeping something like this is a heavy and lonely life.”  
  
Holly’s jaw dropped and suddenly she put her box down and opened her arms, stepping forward in offering. Taking it as a promise to keep her secret, the strawberry blonde stepped into the embrace, sinking into the gentle touch and reveling in it for the brief moment. _‘I might need to start hugging one or more of our Mates. This is really… really nice,’_ she thought before stepping back. “I won’t tell,” Holly confirmed aloud, “about any of it.”  
  
“Thank you,” Abigail grinned back. 

* * *

When the alter got home that night around eight-forty, she was starving. Grace was cleaning up in the kitchen while Jon was nowhere to be seen, though the sound of the washer and dryer’s lids closing one after the other could be heard and gave her a clue. “Oh, good, you’re home,” the redhead looked up as the front door closed. “Alex, my son, made quesadillas for us tonight. I hope you don’t mind a little bit of spice, though.” Abigail hung up her coat and proceeded to untie her one shoe.  
  
As if on cue, a tall brunet came out of the back with a loaded laundry basket. He paused partly in the kitchen upon seeing the blonde teen standing in the entryway. “Hi,” his voice was deep, and a little rough. “You must be my new sister… apparently.”  
  
“I’m Abigail,” she said in way of introduction with a wave of her hand. “You must be my older brother… apparently.” He was tall and clearly of Germanic descent but also definitely Grace’s son as well.  
  
He smirked at her comeback. “I guess I am,” he nodded and moved to put his basket of clean laundry on the couch. He then turned and offered her a hand. She took it and shook, noting how smooth and soft his skin was compared to her Mates’. Grace puttered about in the kitchen, reheating the food left for the teen. “Settling in okay?”  
  
“Yeah,” Abigail replied happily and came to sit at the table as Grace placed the plate down. “Thank you.” Turning to Alex, she asked, “Is this the part where you grill me to get to know me? Because if it is, you don’t have to. I’ll tell you almost anything you want to know.”  
  
Alex smirked. “I like you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now we meet Alex... I'm not sure if he's going to be a major player later on but I definitely want to do some more with him as much as I want to also throw in some more Jon/The Group and Grace/The Group interactions. So obviously this is going to be longer than 100 chapters because I am nowhere close to being done yet.
> 
> Have a good weekend my lovelies!


	79. Distraction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my most loyal reviewers, **zerousy** and **Writers_Have_Their_Own_Set_of_Rules** , I have angst for you this update! I am so sorry but I am totally going to blame my muse and the fan fics I've been reading. I can't seem to find anything light and fluffy and multi-chaptered all at the same time. It's either one or the other. UGH!
> 
> Anyway, also shout outs for this week go to my three unnamed guests. Thank you for the kudos!

Abigail really enjoyed the meal Alex had made for the rest of the family but she enjoyed talking with him even more, especially when Grace and Jon - who had been upstairs doing something or other - left them alone on the living room couch (after ensuring most of her homework had been completed during downtime at school and work) to talk about a few heavier things, like how it was sharing their body with other personalities for each of them. Slowly over the night, they had gone from having a full seat cushion between them, only having about a third of one separating them as Alex spoke with her and slowly gained her trust.  
  
“And how does your girlfriend handle it… since your mom made it sound like she was…” Abigail trailed off.  
  
“Normal?” Alex supplied, watching her grimace. “Hey, we’re normal, too, y’know. Just a different kind of normal.” He laughed quietly. “There’s more of us out there than you would think, too. Dr. Fletcher has introduced me - and Matt and Jarod - to a whole bunch of people like us. Usually once every month or so, she likes to do do group sessions if all our schedules can get in alignment. It’s also a way for all of us to get to meet each other and make friends and be there for each other if Karen can’t be there for us.” Turning his face away from the blonde teen, he continued, his voice tightening slightly. “As for my girlfriend… she tried. I will give her that. But she couldn’t handle the three of us in one body.”  
  
Abigail clenched her hands in her lap to keep from reaching out and touching him in sympathy. She didn’t want him to think she pitied him. “Was it… an amicable split?” she asked tentatively and then winced. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It’s not my business.”  
  
“It’s fine.” Alex shrugged. “Kinda,” he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I mean, no cruel words were hurled at each other. No one angrily slammed doors or defaced each other’s property. We were civil. We were polite but we haven’t even attempted to speak to the other since it happened a few weeks ago. I’m just happy we weren’t exactly in the same friend circles. That would have made it a ton times worse. But my friends handle it. Matt and Jarod both get along with my friends though they also have their own.”  
  
“That’s good at least,” Abigail commented, suddenly feeling a charge in the air as his gaze swung back towards her and settled on her mouth. “Uh, It's getting late…” she checked her watch.  
  
**10:54PM**  
  
“Oh shit!” she whipped about on the couch, hissing as she smacked her unprotected kneecap against the coffee table. “God damn it.” Then, out loud, she added, “Yes, yes, Emma. I know. I owe the swear jar. But we might’ve missed their call!” She was already grabbing her purse and rummaging through it to find her phone. 


	80. Drama Queen

“Besides, you’re supposed to be sleeping,” Abigail growled under her breath.   
  
The six-year-old’s eyelids were drooping even as she said that. Alistair gave a slight, wry smile and scooped her up to take her back to bed leaving the mother-like alter to sigh heavily. Her hand closed on her phone and slid it from the depths of her school bag.   
  
Alex, having been watching her silently the entire time, sat forward and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, only to see her flinch as the memory of reliving her memory from earlier that day popped into her head. “It's going to be fine, Abby,” he attempted to placate her.   
  
The strawberry blonde froze, hearing the nickname reserved only for Hope and the other alters within her body, not that she really liked it to begin with but they were her family and there was no separating from them so it was best to learn to live with it anyway. She slowly turned her head towards him and shot him a glacial glare. “First,” she snarled, jerking her shoulder out from under his touch, “it's Abigail. We're not friends yet and you haven't earned that right.” Alex’s brows rose but he pulled his hand to his lap. “Second, yes it is. My Mates and I are… having problems… and I missed…” her face contorted with distress when she unlocked the device, “ _three_ phone calls from Them because I was talking to you. And third, not only do I have school in the morning, I have work tomorrow night so excuse me while I go prepare for that. Good night.” Without a backwards glance, Abigail hobbled up the stairs as she listened to the only voicemail that has been left and her heart constricted in her chest.   
  
It was now too late to call them, especially since Polly, as the newest female Mate they had - well not _met_ , but discovered? Was that the right word? - said they were going to be heading to bed by 9:30PM. They would try again tomorrow. But she had sounded so heart broken.   
  
Having reached the top of the stairs, Grace poked her head out from her bedroom. “Ah, I was just about to make sure you were heading to bed,” her foster mother said, then saw her face. “What’s wrong?”   
  
Abigail grimaced. “I missed my Mate’s phone call. Have to try again tomorrow,” she replied. “I’m going to bed, if you don’t mind.” The redhead nodded and headed downstairs, probably to see if her son was still down there or something.   
  
The strawberry blonde closed her bedroom door behind her and threw her phone angrily at her bed, feeling no better when it gave a quiet _ka-thunk_ when it bounced off the wall. What the hell was wrong with her? Or any of the… twenty-nine… thirty of them? Had they all of them done something wrong in their last life to warrant getting screwed over in this one?   
  
_‘I hate my life…’_ she whined. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Abigail is kinda being angsty but it sort of is for good reason... maybe? ***shrugs***


	81. Chatty Kathy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today, we get to see a lot more from Alistair. Like a lot, a lot. And you know what that means - the brogue translations will be located at the bottom of the page. Sorry but Dr. Fletcher is trying to get him to talk in this one so he's gonna comply the best he can. It's like he can't say 'no' to women, which might have consequences later on. But I guess we'll see when we get there.
> 
> Also, I tried for just a little bit of levity at the end of this chapter because the stress (overall) is not going to be going away for a while...
> 
> Now, my weekly shout outs go to my faithful **Writers_Have_Their_Own_Set_of_Rules** and **zerousy** , and a new reviewer named **Polgara6**. Thank you very much to you three, to **FoxglovePrincess** and my unnamed guest for their two kudos! Thank you all!

“You seem to be anxious today,” Doctor Fletcher observed, watching the male alter sitting very stiffly in the sofa chair opposite her, fists clenching upon his knees with one leg stretched out to the side. He was adorned in a dark hoodie and sweats. “Well, from what I learned during our first appointment last week, I was told that you’re the protector of you all. Is this correct?” He nodded silently. “So, is there something that maybe happened over the week that you would like to tell me about that would put you at so much unease?” The male alter hesitated, trying to find the words. Apparently he didn’t speak fast enough for the psychiatrist because she then asked, “How are you and your Mates, at least?”  
  
Alistair’s jaw clenched now, his teeth grinding audibly, and his knuckles went white.  
  
She had found the nerve.  
  
“Would you like to tell me about it or ease into it?”  
  
Alistair swallowed and spoke for the first time since entering Doctor Fletcher’s home/office. “Actually, thaur is also anither hin’ Ah hink Ah shoods warn ye abit.”  
  
Karen’s brows rose high upon her forehead. “Abigail said your brogue was a bit hard to understand,” she commented in way of reply as she wrote down something on her pad of paper. He snorted under his breath, rolling his gray eyes as she added, almost eagerly, “But what is it?”  
  
Alistair unclenched his hands and sat forward a bit, taking a breath, speaking as slowly and as clearly as possible so his psychiatrist would understand him. “Ah went back tae work on Monday an’ it started oot… badly… b’cause…” he reached for his phone and pulled it out, opening up the internet to the several news pages and tweets The Group had seen piling up all about them. He handed over the phone and sat back, bouncing his uncasted knee. The color slowly drained out of her face as she read through the articles and the things were people were saying about The Group. “An’ on top ay that… we haven’t seen eny of oor Mates since ‘at disaster uf a field trip, lit alone bin able tae talk tae them e’en on th’ phone. We jist seem tae keep missin’ each other.”  
  
Doctor Fletcher frowned and finally looked up at him, handing back the mobile while she was at it.  
  
Before she could say anything, Alistair admitted, “And… we… we uhr _all_ … frightened… of thes.” He shook the phone slightly before sliding it back into his hoodie pouch. “Our foster parents haven’t said anythin’ tae us about it. Neither has our social worker. Sae Ah don’t hink they knew anythin’ about it. And… Ah want tae talk tae our Mates about it… but…” He shrugged helplessly.  
  
Inside the theater, Mercedes’ jaw had dropped. Abigail was just as thrown. _‘Huh,’_ Clarke muttered before Mercedes could. _‘Who knew our jarhead was a chatty Kathy?’_ She grinned at the girls’ sputtering before they all burst out laughing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you that don't know, 'jarhead' is a slang term from a United States Marine.  
>   
> 
> 
> ** Alistair’s Translation **
> 
>   
> _Actually, thaur is also anither hin’ Ah hink Ah shoods warn ye abit_ \- Actually, there is also another thing I think I should warn you about  
>   
>  _Ah went back tae work on Monday an’ it started oot… badly… b’cause…_ \- I went back to work on Monday and it started out… badly… because…  
>   
>  _An’ on top ay that… we haven’t seen eny of oor Mates since ‘at disaster uf a field trip, lit alone bin able tae talk tae them e’en on th’ phone. We jist seem tae keep missin’ each other_ \- And on top of that… we haven’t seen any of our Mates since that disaster of a field trip, let alone been able to talk to them even on the phone. We just seem to keep missing each other.  
>   
>  _And… we… we uhr all… frightened… of thes_ \- And… we… we are all… frightened… of this.  
>   
>  _Our foster parents haven’t said anythin’ tae us about it. Neither has our social worker. Sae Ah don’t hink they knew anythin’ about it. And… Ah want tae talk tae our Mates about it… but…_ \- Our foster parents haven’t said anything to us about it. Neither has our social worker. So I don’t think they know anything about it. And… I want to talk to our Mates about it… but… 


	82. Decisions

**Much Later on That Night**  
  
“Look, I know we’re all feeling a little angsty about the constant miscommunication - and I really wish we could at least talk to them or something - but there’s something else we should think about too. How long are we going to keep Hope asleep for?” Mercedes asked suddenly as Abigail got them ready for bed.  
  
Alistair had just come in from tucking Emma into her own bed and paused on his way back to his seat, his jaw clenching at being put on the spot. The male sighed heavily, knowing he had to make a decision for The Group but usually content to letting the little mother do that more often than not. His shoulders drooped slightly as he glanced from the golden skinned alter to Clarke - who was looking up at him curiously - and then to at Abigail up on the projector. Calling out a little louder so the strawberry blonde could hear him, he announced, “We shood hae a talk abit ‘at, lass.”  
  
Abigail glanced inward and nodded, showing them she had heard the suggestion before turning to the task at hand once more. After a few more minutes, she laid their body down into their bed and turned off the light, closing her eyes and allowing her body to go to sleep. Stepping off the projector platform, she slumped heavily into her chair, her whole being radiating sadness.  
  
“Can you focus on Hope?” Clarke asked quietly. “If you’re too fried, we can postpone this.”  
  
Abigail sighed. “No, we need to talk about this,” she replied. “And I am all in favor of waking her back up but do we really want to cause her the stress we feel because of the constant miscommunication with any of our Mates?”  
  
“We’re not being abused anymore,” Mercedes countered. “Jon and Grace have been wonderful and I think it would be a good thing to show her.”  
  
Clarke spoke up once more and added, “Yes, I would like to show Hope the joys of good parenting, _however_ ,” she shot a look to quell the smugly triumphant grin on the darkest haired female, “I believe we should iron out the wrinkles we have made with our Mates first.” Alistair smiled slightly and nodded sharply twice, in avid agreement. Having used up his quota of words for the next couple of weeks earlier that day while with Doctor Fletcher, he was happily remaining quiet now. Silvery gray eyes turned towards the impromptu leader of the six of them. Abigail smiled tiredly and nodded.  
  
“All in agreement…”  
  
Three confident voices said, “Aye,” while the fourth was reluctant but audible.  
  
Abigail sat forwards, putting her elbows on her skirt covered knees, stating, “Then, in accordance with our agreement, we will leave Hope asleep until things have worked themselves out. Any more topics for discussion?”  
  
Clarke sat forward now and spoke quietly, “The phone call earlier.”  
  
Everyone went silent, remembering the call from Faith earlier, about Hope’s biological father - Joseph’s - hearing in a couple of days. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****
> 
> **Translation**
> 
>   
>  _We shood hae a talk abit ‘at, lass_ \- We should have a talk about that, lass


	83. Preparation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh, there's about to be a reappearance of someone - or at least the mentioning of this character. Also, remember, we have about another week or two in the story timeline before the movie starts so this would be a great time for some more drama not centered around The System and The Horde, don'cha think?
> 
> Shout outs for this update go out to **Polgara6** , **zerousy** , and **Writers_Have_Their_Own_Set_of_Rules** for their reviews and to the unnamed guest for their kudo. Thank you all so much!

Faith had come over around 10 that following morning to go over the proceedings that would take place the next day for Joseph’s hearing. ‘Hope’ would need to be called up to the stand and answer questions about what her life was like while under her biological father’s care. “What happens if they ask about my Marks,” Mercedes asked after a prompting by Abigail. She was trying to refrain from drumming her fingers on the table in her annoyance of the strawberry blonde’s backseat driving because the nagging would just continue. “I’d rather not confirm that I’m the one with twenty-four because I’m pretty sure a lynch mob will quickly form and come after me if that happens.”  
  
Faith grimaced. “Just try to answer best you can without giving an actual number,” she replied. “And try to avoid talk about having DID. Your word will be less credible.”  
  
That was a low blow and she turned furrowed brows towards her social worker. “Because I’m crazy?” Mercedes demanded slowly, her voice tight. “Or mentally unstable? It’s because of him that there are six of us living in this scarred body. I would think that would be a better case against him.”  
  
Jon came over, saying, “Relax, Mercedes. Faith is just trying to help you out,” he said as he reached out a hand towards her shoulder. The teen alter flinched back and shot him a wary scowl. He dropped his hand while the attempted smile wiped away from his handsome face. He also took a step back, placing his sister-in-law between himself and his foster daughter. “I apologize for invading your space. Please forgive me.”  
  
Mercedes nodded sharply but still eyed him warily. “You have to remember, the last time a male purposefully touched me, he had just broken my leg and was beating me bloody with his belt,” she hissed quietly.  
  
_‘Not true,’_ Abigail muttered. _‘The male nurse in the hospital was the last to touch our body because he helped us back into bed.’_  
  
Mercedes turned her head away from the two adults staring at her and rolled her eyes so they wouldn’t think she was doing it towards them. “So, expect to be railroaded by Joseph’s attorneys or lawyers or whatever and try to keep my Marks out of it,” the teen summarized for her social worker and foster father. Faith nodded. “Okay, I think I got that. Is there anything else I should know for tomorrow?” Faith shook her head. “Okay, then. I’ve got homework I need to finish then so I’ll be upstairs.” Pushing herself up the stairs and out of sight, she decided to eavesdrop.  
  
“I thought she was getting better,” Faith said to Jon.  
  
He replied, “I thought she was. She’s been getting tenser all week long. I don’t know what’s going on. She’s been talking to us less since Alex visited and Grace said he left in a hurry. I’m not sure what happened but they seemed to be getting on well enough.” 


	84. Tick Tock

“Something must have happened,” Faith said. “Have you spoken to Alex since he visited?”  
  
There was quiet downstairs for a minute before Jon replied, “No, not yet although I tried calling the three of them once on Thursday and left a voicemail. You think something happened between them that caused this?”  
  
The woman voiced, “I’ll try talking to her in a little bit, see if I can get her to open up to me. Doctor Fletcher is very adamant about her doctor-patient-confidentiality so it’s not like I can go to that old windbag.”  
  
_‘As she should be, you ignorant, fuck bucket,’_ Mercedes thought to herself.  
  
Jon sighed audibly. “Luckily it’s only for a few more months,” he said slowly, his voice dropping so that she had to strain her hearing for the next part, “but I’m not sure if taking her in was such a good idea.”  
  
The female alter froze at those words.  
  
Suddenly, her phone decided at that moment to start vibrating in hoodie pocket and then continued to vibrate. She pulled it out and looked at the caller ID. It was their Mate! Letting herself into her room as quietly as possible, Mercedes pressed the phone button and brought the device to her ear. Before she could even attempt to say any kind of greeting, she was immediately cut off. “What day is it?”  
  
The female alter blinked at the sharp bark and immediately replied, “I’m sorry. What?”  
  
The male voice immediately shot back angrily, “What day is it? It’s not that hard.”  
  
“It’s Sunday,” she replied, glancing at her hanging calendar she had picked up from work, “the 12th. Why? What’s wrong?”  
  
The male on the other end sighed heavily. “I’m… we’re… we’re losing time,” he muttered. “I’m Heinrich, by the way.”  
  
“Mercedes,” she replied, frowning as she sat on her bed. “What do you mean you’re losing time? Is one of your alters taking over or something? I mean… is that even possible?” She tried to imagine a different set up from the one The Group had, of not being able to see or to hear what each of them did with their body and shuddered at the possibility of not knowing before her mind flickered with the thought of how much more she could have gotten away with.  
  
“We’re not sure,” the male voice - Heinrich - replied gruffly. “Everyone made a grab for the light that one day.” Mercedes grimaced. “Goddard said you were there.” An unasked question hung in the air between them.  
  
The female nodded. “Yeah, I saw what happened,” she confirmed. “To make it worse, I have a couple of classes with them, too.” The male cursed something unintelligible under his breath. “Have you told Doctor Fletcher? Or… I mean… is there anything you can do to regain balance between you all?”  
  
There was a harsh laugh before a gruff rebuttal, “It’s never been balanced between all of us. Especially when we annexed The Horde.”  
  
This caused her to frown. “The Horde?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun, dun, dun! Not only is Jon not exactly the best foster father (wanting to give up The Group before she's 18 despite having had Alex (and Matt and Jarod)) but now Mercedes and them all know something is going down with their Mates! What's going to happen next?
> 
> And right before I go, this is just for me, how many of you actually read the author's notes? Please let me know via comment. Thank you and have a wonderful weekend!


	85. Hedwig

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is a special shout out to **Writers_Have_Their_Own_Set_of_Rules** because you actually took the time to answer my question. Thank you so very, very much for that and I hope you know I absolutely appreciate the feedback. I think you should enjoy this chapter just as well as the rest because one of our youngest is getting the spotlight.
> 
> As for my other reviewers and kudo-ists: my thanks goes out to to **Polgara6** for the review and to the four unnamed guests for their kudos. I appreciate all you have done for me and for getting us up to over 280 comments, over 225 kudos, 25 bookmarks and nearly 4000 hits. You guys are amazing! Thank you so much!

No one really knew how he had gained the ability that he had, not even the child himself. He did not fully understand the mechanics either. He just knew, if he really wanted the light really, _really_ badly, the alter currently sitting in ‘The Chair’ would get a funny look on their face and would suddenly stumble over to their personal chair in the circle whether they liked it or not, giving the boy the ability to steal the light. And when everyone had made a grab for control when the _really_ bad thing - no one would tell him exactly what happened, not even Goddard - a couple of weeks ago, Hedwig had wanted the light so badly that everyone had faltered and he had slid through the crowd of alters, successfully stealing the chair for the first time.  
  
Everyone had looked so angry that they had tried to grab the boy… only to be blocked by some invisible force field. Like Star Wars or something. It had been so cool!  
  
He had heard Mr. Dennis and Ms. Patricia blame his age for the how and the why of it all remaining a mystery. Hedwig didn’t care; he just thought it was awesome. He was like a superhero. Almost. Not quite like Thor’s lightning strikes or Cyclops’ ability to shoot lasers out of his eyes, though. And as much as he loved being in the light, he knew he had to share sometimes. And if he shared with Ms. Patricia and Mr. Dennis, then they were nicer to him than the rest of the others and that always made Hedwig happy. Now the others couldn’t be mean to him anymore or he could steal the light from them if they managed to get it briefly.  
  
Like, right now.  
  
Heinrich had stolen ‘The Chair’ because Mr. Dennis had gotten up from it to hand it over to Ms. Patricia - who had gone to speak with The Beast and the boy had been distracted by Norma.  
  
“That’s my chair!” Hedwig shouted upon glancing away from the female and seeing the adult male having settled himself in with an angry scowl on his face, though that was normal for the course as Heinrich was the epitome of Kevin’s anger, frustration, and short temper. He glared at the adult alter until The Chair was freed and he stole the light with a grin.  
  
Hedwig opened his eyes and regained orientation. It was late at night, he was sitting at his work desk and his cell phone was in his hand.  
  
“Heinrich, you okay?” a female voice sounded from the speaker. “Heinrich? Please, you’re scaring me.”  
  
Hedwig felt uncomfortable in the clothes that weren’t his but he would be giving the chair to Ms. Patricia so he wouldn’t have to worry. Moving the phone to his ear, Hedwig tried to be polite as possible as he said, “Heinrich had to go away ‘n’ I’m not thuppothed to talk to thrangers. Goodbye.” He promptly ended the call. 


	86. Ping

Not really knowing what to do until Mr. Dennis could get Ms. Patricia, which would take probably only another few minutes - though, to a nine-year-old that would feel like _forever_ , Hedwig decided to head on home so that the female alter would be able to change into her own clothes and feel more comfortable than the boy did now. Getting up from Kevin/Barry’s desk, Hedwig looked about the dark of the office and winced, heart picking up its beat in his chest. He hated the dark and was really happy Mr. Dennis had been able to replace his nightlight in his room because who knew what was actually hiding in the dark!  
  
_‘Scary monsters… like The Beast,’_ Hedwig decided to himself, key ring in hand - because if he lost that, **everyone** would be really, super angry with him, including Mr. Dennis and Ms. Patricia. _‘Though, nothing could be scarier than him!’_ The thought made him smile because The Beast liked him and that meant he wouldn’t harm him, or that was what Ms. Patricia had told him.  
  
The boy closed the office door behind him as quietly as he was able. Still, the click of the latch made him wince again and quickly turn about. The park lights were turning on as the sun began to hide itself behind the budding branches of the surrounding trees. That made him feel better.  
  
The child made his way forward, hunching his shoulders a bit because of the slight chill in the air. He wanted to get home. Maybe he could make a hotdog for dinner. Oh, and maybe he could catch up on some Adventure Time! Although, Mr. Dennis had said he wanted to work on ‘The Room’ some more.  
  
His stomach growled.  
  
Hotdog first.  
  
Stepping down the stairs that would lead him to the maintenance hallway that connected the Big Cats’ veterinarian station to his home, Hedwig felt even better, now that he was almost there. He was just reaching the lockers when he felt the two adults he had been waiting for send a sort of ping against the safety force field that normally surrounded him. He slowed to a stop and debated whether or not to make them wait or to just give up the light right now. Another ping made his decision and he turned back to the benches in front of the lockers. The boy sat down and closed his eyes. 

* * *

Hedwig opened his eyes and saw Ms. Patricia and Mr. Dennis standing a little more than their arm’s length from him. He smiled, his tongue automatically sliding into the gap between his teeth and he got up from his seat before he suddenly sent a glare at the other alters. “Hedwig, darling, please let us in,” came Ms. Patricia’s lightly accented voice.  
  
The boy turned his curly head of hair back towards her and nodded, reaching out and taking her hand. The tall, thin woman smiled and took the seat.  
  
Patricia’s eyes opened slowly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun, dun, dun! Uh oh... Patricia's got the light.
> 
> Also, remember we have about two more (story-wise) weeks before the movie starts because I love April and because I say so!


	87. Time To Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, for those of you who take the time to read my notes, this is an important announcement. I repeat for those who don't normally read these:  
> 
> 
> ** THIS IS AN IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT **
> 
>   
> Next week, starting Monday, I will be on house hunting leave. This means meeting up with quite a few different realtors and trying to find a new place to rent because I'm about to be transferred to another state. With that being said, to avoid the stress leaking into my writing, next week there will be ** NO UPDATE **. Regular updates will resume on the 16th. This I solemnly promise.  
>   
> Now, for my shout outs to my regular three reviewers: my humble and earnest thanks go to **Writers_Have_Their_Own_Set_of_Rules** , **Polgara6** , **zerousy** and to **LizRenKnight** for her review and to my two guest kudos-ers. Thank you!!! I love you all! And please no tomatoes for the semi-bad news.

They were all nervous as Alistair moved them through the motions of getting dressed that morning. Unfortunately, with the bulky cast still upon their person for probably the next couple of weeks, they were still stuck in the very loose black sweatpants, ankle socks and sneakers, where as everyone else would be better-to-very-well-dressed as was custom in any and all hearings/court cases, etc. His clothing of choice over his chest binding, however, was a crisp white oxford button up beneath a light gray waistcoat, the inner lining a medium blue satin. He forewent a tie, one - because he didn’t have one, and two - because he rather disliked the things and only wore them when he absolutely had to.  
  
Looking at himself in the full length mirror hanging from the back of their bedroom door they had purchased over the weekend, he nodded in approval, though he grimaced at the length of the blonde curls hanging in his face. “Ah wish ye woods lit aw thes hair be shorter,” he grumbled aloud. “I look like a bloody woman.”  
  
_‘Nooo!’_ Emma wailed, hands immediately going up to her own dark locks.  
  
_‘You’re in a woman’s body,’_ Abigail reminded him.  
  
Mercedes sniped, _‘And all of us have longer hair so continue to deal with it, big guy.’_ To emphasize her point, she ran her fingers through her lengthy dark locks with a sassy sneer.  
  
Clarke nodded from her seat, long dark red hair done up in a complicated knot over the back of her head. _‘I would prefer our hair to be longer, but for your sake, do please keep this length. I would request of you no shorter, please, unless it were a necessary trim.’_ All the women nodded, Emma nodding most emphatically. Her hair coincidentally by far was proportionally the longest on her figure, ending halfway down her back while the others’ were chopped in shorter, varying lengths.  
  
“Ready to go, Alistair?”  
  
The male alter looked up at his foster mother with a smile. Out of the three adults who could sort of claim the role of foster family, he prefered the older redhead. Yes, she had pushed Abigail in such a way and caused Clarke’s existence but the woman had made up for it by being a good mother the rest of the time they had been living here and she was only human to boot. She was allowed to make mistakes. “Yes, muhm,” he replied in his thick accent slurring ‘ _ma’am_ ’ heavily. He suddenly reached out and grabbed her sleeve. At her raised brow, he ducked his head slightly and muttered, “Thenk ye, …fur ev’rythin’.”  
  
Grace smiled and patted his hand gently. “Of course.”  
  
Alistair slowly followed her out of The Group’s room and down the stairs, losing his hint of a smile when he spotted Jon and Faith. He supposed they meant well; it didn’t mean he had to like them.  
  
“Here you both are,” Faith announced seeing the two descending the stairs. “Let’s get going then.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Alistair Translation**  
>  _Ah wish ye woods lit aw thes hair be shorter_ \- I wish you would let all this hair be shorter
> 
>  _Thenk ye, …fur ev’rythin’_ \- Thank you, for everything.


	88. Armor

Alistair’s knuckles were white as he sat rigidly straight on the bench outside of the small court hall, trying to tune out the many voices of those around him. Still, though, he watched as seemingly hundreds of people scurried about to and fro before his gray gaze while he waited with Grace seated on his left and Jon hovering protectively above her. Suddenly, his phone vibrated in his jacket pocket. He blinked, and glanced down, pulling it out and smiling slightly at the texter’s name.  
  
Casey Cooke  
  
**Hey. U didn’t abandon me did u? Lol jk**  
  
Another text came in. And then another quickly after.  
  
**Srsly though. Where are u? These bitches are giving me hibes.**  
  
***Hives**  
  
Abigail smiled at the quick correction that the brunet had actually picked up from her during their high school years texting one another occasionally. _‘Yea, Casey misses us,’_ Emma beamed in her seat. Turning to Mercedes she added snottily, _‘I told you she liked us! I told you! I told you!’_ The golden skinned alter just rolled her eyes and ignored the child, watching the male alter as he hit reply.  
  
Alistair typed slowly, knowing Clarke would wince and point it out if he misspelled anything. Bloody perfectionist, that one. **Court case against Joseph. I should be bothering you again tomorrow.**  
  
Just then, movement from his peripherals caused him to look up and witness an older woman with short white hair and a smart pantsuit making her way through the bustling crowd. He stowed his phone back into his jacket pocket and forced himself to his feet as Doctor Karen Fletcher approached the small group. Grace stood a moment later, his movement causing her to search and locate what had caught his attention.  
  
_‘Doesn’t she own anything other than slacks?’_ Mercedes sniped under her breath.  
  
Jon move forward first, hand outstretched to shake her hand in greeting. The doctor and his foster father shook briefly before the women shook hands. Karen, knowing that Alistair liked the touching less than most people did not move to shake his hand in greeting and the male alter smiled in grateful relief, his knuckles still clenched and white. He also supposed, in the back of his head, that she had seen him nervous energy translated into the tight fists and decided not to deter him.  
  
“We’re about ready to go inside,” Faith suddenly appeared by Jon’s elbow and was it just Alistair, or did the younger redhead’s body press into her brother-in-law more than necessary? He shook it off and made to follow his foster family.  
  
That was when Doctor Fletcher took Alistair’s elbow very gently and leaned in ever so slightly. “Remember, just as you are The Group’s armor, we - your foster parents, your social worker, and myself are your armor, meant to protect you from the outside world. We might not always be the best or the strongest in pieces, but as a whole, we will do our job as the best as we can.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So for any who might have noticed that I didn't have Alistair putting his name at the end of his text, it's because Casey doesn't know about their DID. She just thinks they're a bit... weird. But it's okay since she's considered to be 'weird' too. Also, as a reminder, there will be **NO UPDATE next week!** Sorry for that but I'd prefer you to have good chapters a little late rather than shitty chapters on time.


	89. Not an Update

** This is not an update - this is a hiatus notice/author’s note! **

  
  
  
Hey guys, I know I’ve been MIA for longer than I promised I would be and this is _ not _ the scheduled update you were all hoping for. Unfortunately, you’re going to have to wait a while longer… This is because I am a fully grown adult with a **_ HIGHLY _ ** demanding career path that basically points and tells me where and when to go without question or complaint. This means that my life is technically not my own. I got new “marching orders” that kinda suck and that means I’ll be without any kind of reliable internet connection for the foreseeable future.  
  
  
Yes, you heard correctly.  
  
  
I’ll try to update this story whenever I have the chance to but as of right now, I am not making any promises that you’ll get anything whatsoever more than maybe sporadically until I’m off rotation. Whenever that will be. Even I don’t know for sure.  
  
  
So, please be patient with me if you can. I promise this story is not going to be left unfinished. And I want to say thank you to all of the following:  
  
  
 **Writer_Have_Their_Own_Set_of_Rules, LizRenKnight, zerousy, teaandwhisky, Captainfluggers** , and my three unnamed guests for all of your reviews and kudos.  
  
  
To **Polgara6** (of course I wouldn’t ever forget you) thank you for your concern when I didn’t turn up right away. I really, really appreciate that and I’m sorry for making you worry.  
  
  
Okay, guys, I guess that’s about it for right about now. I hope you all keep in good health and stay safe while I’m away and I’ll catch you on the flip side.  
  
  


Peace!


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